Exception
by greywolfheir
Summary: Dramione throughout the book. A kind of between-the-pages romance. Follows every book. A bit OOC going on. Every chapter should be a new year, though some years have two parts.
1. It All Starts On A Train

"You haven't seen a toad have you?" Hermione asked tiredly. She'd asked the question more times than she could count, to no avail.

"No," said the pale boy in the compartment, just as Hermione predicted. She'd just turned to go ask someone else when he stopped her. "Well aren't you going to tell me why you asked? It seems a bit rude not to."

Hermione turned back to him with the beginnings of a glare. However, the boy was smirking, and she suddenly wasn't sure if he'd meant his comment to be rude.

"Well, this boy named Neville lost his. I've been helping him look for ages," Hermione explained with a sigh.

"Do you want to sit down?" the boy offered, holding out his white hand. "My friends went to go look, but I already know what this place is like from my father. So for now, this compartment is empty."

Hermione hesitated at these last words, but she was exhausted. She took the seat across from the boy.

"I'm Malfoy, by the way, Draco Malfoy," he said, extending a hand.

"Hermione Granger," she said, taking his hand. It was a bit cold to the touch, but she didn't think anything of it.

"Granger? I've never—" Suddenly, Draco's eyes widened. "You're not a Mudblood are you?"

"A what?" Hermione asked, tilting her head. She had the feeling that the word he used wasn't exactly a very positive one.

"You are! Oh no, but—"

"Are you going to tell me what you're talking about?" Hermione interrupted. She didn't like the look he had when he'd mentioned the foreign word. She was pleased to see his expression change a bit when she interrupted him. Was it admiration she saw now?

"A Mudblood is another name for a Muggle-born wizard." Draco paused, and added. "You do know what a Muggle is?"

"Of course I do," Hermione said dismissively. "I just don't see why it's so surprising that I'm a-a Mudblood, was it?"

"My parents, they, well, they told me it would be obvious," Draco explained, though he wasn't giving a very good explanation in Hermione's opinion.

"_What _would be obvious?" she asked impatiently. Draco's expression—yes, it definitely was admiration—returned.

"They believe that Mudbloods are below the old wizarding families," Draco clarified. "In status, that is. They told me that I would be able to spot one at first glance, but you—you seemed to know what you were doing."

Hermione wondered what it was exactly that made her seem like she knew what she was doing, as she had only told him her name and asked about Neville's toad. She _did_ know what she was doing, of course—hours of reading all the school-books had assured her of that—and she made sure that this boy didn't doubt anything any longer.

"Well, of course I would know what I'm doing," Hermione said lifting her head. "I worked hard to make sure I knew everything I could. I do that with everything. Back at my old school, I was the top of my class."

Draco snorted. "Good luck doing that here. There are a lot of wizards who have lived in the wizarding world for their whole lives, like me. We know much more than a Mudblood can know from books."

"Oh, really?" said Hermione incredulously. "Then I assume you know the levitation spell we're doing this year?"

"Like I said, out of a book," Draco said dismissively.

"Well, I've read how to perform it. Want to see?" she asked, pulling out her wand. Without waiting for an answer, she pointed her wand at a random piece of rubbish on the floor of the train. She waved her wand, saying, "Wingardium Leviosa."

The piece of rubbish slowly lifted off the floor until it was level with Draco's eyes. That was when Hermione noticed that he was smirking again.

"My parents must have been wrong," Draco said, with that same expression of admiration. "Then again, maybe you're just an exception."

"Maybe," Hermione said, letting the rubbish fall. "Anyway, I should get going. I need to find the toad, and your friends should be back soon."

"It was nice meeting you—Granger was it?" Draco said with a nod.

"Right," Hermione said with an answering nod. "Nice meeting you as well, Malfoy."

* * *

><p>Draco watched the girl go with a bit of remorse. He'd rather liked how forceful and bossy she was, as it gave the impression of importance and confidence. He was seriously doubting his parents' judgment at this point. This girl was doing a spell he himself hadn't learned yet, and on top of that, she hadn't looked as completely hideous as he thought Mudbloods would look.<p>

He hadn't wanted to tell the girl, but his parents had always described Mudbloods in the same way they described trolls. That was what he'd assumed his parents meant when they said Mudbloods were easy to spot. This girl was the polar opposite of everything he'd been told, which threw him off, as she was the first he'd seen. Still, he believed he might have been right in thinking that she was an exception. After all, she had read up on everything, whereas he literally hadn't touched one of his books. His father had bought them and his mother had packed them. The only thing he'd read had been the titles.

This was on his mind when the friends he had mentioned earlier opened his compartment again. There were three of them—two stocky boys and a pig-faced girl. They all sat down, their arms loaded with sweets, obviously from the trolley Draco's father had mentioned. Draco was offered some, but he wasn't hungry and he had been taught that sweets made one look immature. His three friends didn't seem to think along the same lines, though he did notice that the girl—Pansy—had quite a bit fewer than the two boys—Crabbe and Goyle.

"You wouldn't believe who just came to our compartment," Draco informed them conspiratorially.

"Who?" Crabbe and Goyle both said through mouthfuls of food. Draco gave a disgusted look but continued.

"It was a Mudblood," he whispered, satisfied with the surprised looks on all their faces.

"What did they look like?"

"Did they touch you?"

"Are they really as stupid as we thought?"

The three of them all spoke at once, and Draco answered each question swiftly and articulately.

"She looked as normal as you and I, though she did have some buckteeth. She shook my hand." At this Draco started and quickly wiped his hand on his robes to get the Mudblood filth off, even if she hadn't seemed too dirty. "And she actually knows a lot. She used a spell."

"But…I thought…" Pansy began.

"I know," Draco said, reading her mind, "but I think this one's a bit of an overachiever. She's read everything and practiced. Plus, she said she was smart in her Muggle school, so maybe she's an exception—like a Mudblood's version of a Squib."

"Mudbloods in general are like Squibs aren't they?" Pansy asked, her eyebrows beginning to join together.

"Maybe she's like a double Squib," Crabbe said through the Pumpkin Pasty he was currently working on.

"Maybe you should stop talking while you're eating," Draco said snidely. "Honestly, the two of you are closer to looking like Mudbloods than that girl was."

What Draco didn't see, as he was too focused on the ugly sight of Crabbe and Goyle, was the dark look that crossed Pansy's features. She'd had a crush on Draco since she first saw him and the way he mentioned the girl made her young eleven-year-old heart sink with jealousy.

"What was this girl's name again, Draco?" Pansy asked.

"Granger," Draco replied. "Hermione Granger."

"Odd name," Pansy said with a sniff. "I wonder if all Muggles name their children so strangely."

"Dunno," Draco said with a shrug. "We'll find out when we meet other Mudbloods."

"Oh yeah, did you hear that Harry Potter's on this train?" Goyle said suddenly.

"Is that true? Better go have a look ourselves then…"

* * *

><p>"Granger, Hermione," Professor McGonagall called. Hermione sprinted to the stool and the second the hat touched her head, she heard a voice.<p>

"A very bright mind I see," it said. "You would be great in Ravenclaw."

_Oh, but I wanted to be in Gryffindor_, Hermione thought dejectedly.

"Gryffindor? Well, I do see quite a lot of courage, and those Gryffindors may need another intelligent mind among them. Very well, GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione grinned and raced toward the loudly cheering table. She liked everything about this school and she'd barely been in the building for more than an hour. She sat next to the prefect from the train, Percy Weasly, and immediately began a conversation about the school. He was happy to talk to her and they were only interrupted by the occasional Gryffindor that was named.

Later on, Hermione began babbling to the fellow girls in her dormitory. They seemed much less enthusiastic, but Hermione blamed it on the late hour. She didn't see the looks that two of the girls exchanged at her bossy tone.

When the excitement had died down a bit, Hermione fell in her bed and began to run through the day all over again. She had forgotten about Draco in the excitement of everything else, but now she thought back to her encounter with him on the train.

She had seen him get sorted into Slytherin, which hadn't been a surprise to her, somehow. Still, she had sort of hoped she would see him again soon. He had seemed fairly pleasant and was definitely polite. Though she thought back to the two other boys she'd met on the train, and the way they described him hadn't been all that great. She decided that she'd see for herself if she ever had any classes with Draco.

* * *

><p>Draco was very pleased with his house. He strutted around the school as if he owned the place. He wasn't surprised to be in Slytherin—the same house as his father—and went over to greet Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, as well as some other friends he knew from other wizard families. He gleefully explained his encounter with a Mudblood on a train when he heard Hermione's name called. Some explained their own experiences with other Mudbloods, but others clung to his every word.<p>

He was, however, a bit disappointed that she had gone to Gryffindor. It was the same house as Potter and Weasly, the house that was even below Hufflepuff in his father's opinion He was beginning to think that maybe Hermione wasn't an exception. What if she was really just the same as every Mudblood?

_Then they're obviously not as bad as you were told_, said a voice in Draco's head. He gave that pause but soon pushed it away. There was probably something that he hadn't noticed yet that he'd notice as they went to their classes. Still, a tiny voice reminded Draco of what he had called the bushy-haired girl on the train. _Maybe you're just an exception_, he'd said. Could that apply to everything about this girl?

When dinner had finished, Draco stood up with the rest of the first years and followed the prefect casually, falling behind to show his confidence that he knew where he was going. He was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and this gave him even more confidence and a sense of security. Anyone who tried to mess with him would have to deal with the strength of the burly boys around him.

In the dormitory, Draco drifted off to sleep immediately, neither excited nor frightened. He was very sure of himself and he knew that he would do well in any class. He had absolutely nothing on his mind but his need for sleep. Draco didn't even dream that night.

* * *

><p>It wasn't the first lesson with Draco that confirmed that he was a git, though it probably should have been. Hermione had been so focused on trying to answer Snape's questions to Harry Potter that she hardly noticed Draco's sniggering.<p>

No, it was the first flying lesson that confirmed it for her. First, Draco had broken a rule by flying in the air, which Hermione did not approve of at all. Add that to the fact that he had made fun of poor Neville _and_ stolen something from him, and Hermione couldn't help but realize that he was a git.

Hermione also realized that Malfoy was a bully—a petty bully at that—when she'd been forced into coming to the wizard's duel. At least, she'd been forced to come to the _almost_ wizard duel. And she knew it wasn't Draco's fault that they had run into the three-headed dog, but she couldn't help but think of the two of them in the same thought.

From that day on, Hermione knew that her first impression about the boy was wrong. He was intelligent and witty—something she thought went hand in hand with kindness and definitely not bullying—but he was just too cruel and too arrogant. Obviously, in Hermione's mind, Draco was the exception.

* * *

><p>Draco watched the Muggle-born with close scrutiny, trying to see why his parents hated Muggles so much. But looking around at other Mudbloods, Draco soon realized that most of them had at least one trait that proved his parents right. Hermione, bossy and quite the show-off that she was, still wasn't nearly on their level. Obviously—confirming Draco's original thought—Hermione was the exception.<p> 


	2. Doomed from the Start

"There. Are. No. Exceptions," Lucius Malfoy hissed between clenched teeth. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw that Draco had learned meant that provoking the man would be detrimental to his health.

Draco had wasted no time in telling his father every detail about Hogwarts, including the reasons why it wouldn't compare to what he had heard about Durmstrang Institute. Knowing what his father's reaction would be, Draco had purposely left out the part where he not only met but admired a Mudblood. That is, until the last few weeks before the start of the next school year. Draco figured it would be better then, because that way he wouldn't have to worry about letting it slip anymore _and_ he would be leaving soon, so the punishments couldn't last too long. Still, Draco, in his explanation, couldn't help but add his thoughts on why Hermione was so brilliant. Obviously, this hadn't gone down too well.

"But Father, she—"

"She is a filthy Mudblood who soils the ground that we pure-bloods walk on. I thought I taught you this, Draco," Lucius continued. There was a note in his voice that told Draco not to push it.

Instead, he merely dropped his head and said in a defeated way, "Sorry, Father, it won't happen again."

Unfortunately for Draco, it did happen again—almost. Walking into Flourish and Blotts with Lucius, Draco spotted the unmistakable brown ball of fluff that was the back of Hermione's head. He immediately stood up a little straighter and absentmindedly smoothed the front of his robes. A sharp pain to his knees, however, destroyed this demeanor. Lucius had whacked his son on the knees with his cane. At first Draco, feared it was because his father also recognized Granger, but his next words dispelled this thought.

"Draco, what have I told you about overdoing your posture?" Lucius spat.

"That it looks nearly as bad as slouching," Draco responded, trying to hide the relief in his voice. Looking for a chance to hide his smile as well, Draco looked over his shoulder and pointed, adding, "Father, may I go look over here for my books while you look elsewhere?"

"Yes, yes, Draco, I shall meet you soon," Lucius said huffily, his blonde hair streaking behind him as he skirted off and away from Draco.

Draco, knowing his father would find out about a meeting with only Granger, decided to insult his enemy, Harry Potter, knowing full well that Hermione was one of his friends and most likely nearby. It was, indeed, childish to think that insulting someone's friend would make them talk to you, but then, Draco was a child at the time.

Unfortunately for Draco, his father had to go and pick a fight with the Weasleys, getting them kicked out in no time.

"Father, was that really necessary?" Draco asked, ignoring the bruises that were forming quickly on Lucius's fair skin.

Lucius straightened his hair haughtily before replying, "Well, Draco, they were a collection of blood-traitors, Muggles, and Mudbloods. It's not my fault that none of them were able to restrain themselves."

"But it _is_ your fault when you provoke them, knowing full well what it will lead to, as you're implying," Draco said in a strained voice.

"Draco, are you suggesting that I was in the wrong?" The muscle was twitching again and Draco, remembering that pain in his legs from earlier, quickly lowered his head again.

"Of course not, Father," he murmured.

* * *

><p>"Draco! What are <em>you<em> doing here?" Hermione asked from behind the book she was reading, alone in her train compartment. She hadn't seen Harry or Ron since she'd gotten on the train and had assumed that they both decided to ditch her. This hurt her deeply, as she had thought they were her first true friends. Covering this pain was a layer of even more bossiness mixed with crankiness. This was not good for poor Draco, who had also hurt her by his sudden cruelness the year before.

"Well, I was late in coming to the station this morning, and every other compartment was full except this one, but I can tell that I'm not wanted, so I'll just leave then," Draco said, turning.

"Oh, fine, you can sit here, just don't expect me to have a cheery conversation with you," Hermione grumbled.

"Why's that?" Draco said with a barely concealed smirk of triumph. "I remember a pleasant conversation last year."

"That was before I found out that you were a cruel bully," Hermione said. She also couldn't resist adding, "You're supposed to put your things above, you know."

Draco glanced over at where his trunk lay, in the seat next to him, and raised a thin eyebrow. "As no one is sitting here, I assumed it didn't matter."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine."

"Fine," Draco replied, though it was in vain. Hermione had returned to her book and hadn't heard him. It was one of Lockhart's schoolbooks that they were supposed to be studying over the school year. She took a very long time to read one sentence, but—and she assured herself that it had nothing to do with the fact Draco had turned to look out the window as the train began to move—she eventually took in the words and continued on. In no time she was absorbed in the book and completely forgot about the pale boy sitting across from her.

Therefore, when he spoke, Hermione jumped, and had to take a minute to remember who he was.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Hermione asked.

"I was asking if you were planning on making this the most awkward train ride in my existence," Draco said slowly, as if he thought Hermione wasn't able to understand him.

"Oh…what do you mean? Has it been awkward?" Hermione could only remember the words in her book. She couldn't think of anything Draco had done. In fact she didn't remember him getting up and placing his trunk on the top of the compartment even though she was sure she should have known that.

Draco sighed. "I did assume it was only me. I mean, how can I expect a filthy Mudblood to know about social situations?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded, bristling. She'd heard him call her a Mudblood before but not with such malice or in such a terrible sentence.

"Are you deaf as well? Has staying with all those Weasleys ruined your hearing?" Draco said with a sneer. "I suppose that's why you haven't talked this whole time."

"I can hear well enough, thank you very much. How you knew I was staying with all of them is beyond me but I'll have you know that they are much better company than you are and _that_ is why I haven't said anything." Hermione slammed her book shut, knowing she wouldn't get lost in the pages again at this point.

"It's easy to assume that you stay with them since you seem to go with them everywhere," Draco said. "Now tell me, did your parents get kicked out by the other Muggles because of you? I saw them at the bookshop and I assumed they were staying with the blood-traitors as well."

"My parents are very proud of me and they still have their own home, not that you should care," Hermione spat.

"Ah, you should get used to me this year. My father has reminded me that all Mudbloods—regardless of their 'intelligence'—will be filthy until that final glorious breath," Draco said.

That was the last straw for Hermione. She made a guttural sound of anger, grabbed her school robes, and marched out of the compartment, leaving the foul-mouthed boy to his own dastardly devices.

Draco, ignoring the terrible taste in his mouth, was satisfied with his work. He managed to make her lash out at him, which was a good thing. While watching Hermione read, he decided that the only way he would be able to do his father right would be to find a way to torment Hermione endlessly, whether she was around or not. Then, he wouldn't have anything to lie or feel guilty about, except, of course, the guilt of Hermione being hurt. However, this was remedied by Hermione's reaction. No matter what he thought of her, if she hurt him back, he was going to feel anger, and want to hurt her more.

And yet, Draco still had that awful taste in his mouth, a taste that told him it would be a while before he could make fun of her for real. If that ever happened. The truth was, Draco really liked Hermione. He didn't like her in any romantic way—he was young and the vestiges of the boyhood mindset that to like a girl would be almost detrimental to one's health prevented any thoughts in that direction—but he still wanted to get to know her and spend more time with her. In fact, it frustrated him that her parentage should get in the way of this. It seemed to have no effect on Hermione herself and he really thought she would be a much better friend than Crabbe and Goyle. They satisfied his brawling, boyish side that made him feel strong, but they lacked the intelligence that also involved creativity and an artistic side. Pansy was alright, but he knew that Hermione would have so much more insight.

Once his thoughts fell here, Draco roughly pushed them to the far reaches of his mind. Traitorous thoughts like these would only lead to depression and despair. Draco looked out the window and started when he saw the tips of Hogwarts come in view. He quickly grabbed his robes, knowing that by doing this, he would manage to avoid Hermione and not have to speak to her again on the train. His thoughts were confirmed when he returned, Hermione's trunk gone. Draco gulped down the return of that terrible taste in his mouth and left the train.

* * *

><p>"No one asked your opinion, you filthy Mudblood."<p>

Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes immediately. She knew it was stupid, but she also knew that the tone, more than the words, hurt. Draco had said them on the train, but not with nearly enough malice. It was if he'd sharpened his blade of words and shoved it in her heart once again.

Hermione barely heard Ron's angry shouts, but the bang from his broken wand couldn't be ignored. Tears nearly forgotten, Hermione quickly turned and squealed, "Ron! Ron! Are you all right?"

She barely thought of Draco in light of Ron's new slug problem. At Hagrid's, Hermione tried to act as if she hadn't heard the word before, but once it was brought up, she couldn't stop thinking about it. She had the feeling that the train ride had been a prelude to what this year had in store for her. Unfortunately for Hermione, she was all too right.

Draco knew it was wrong, but he also knew that it was right. He felt the pain from seeing those tears in her eyes, but he also knew that his father would approve. Still, he also knew that if he hadn't been for Hermione's shot at him, he would never have been able to conjure the spite.

When Hermione had turned to help Weasly, Draco felt another stab of pain, but he couldn't necessarily place this one. He felt anger as well and knew it wasn't toward Hermione, but he would have been able to manage another hearty insult if they hadn't run off so quickly.

Later, Draco felt contradictory again. Blood on the walls and a seemingly dead cat shouldn't have delighted him nearly as much as it did. But Draco knew his delight was really just for the words. Knowing the history of the Chamber of Secrets, Draco couldn't help but feel as if this was the perfect excuse to act as if he hated Hermione.

Unbeknownst to Draco, this feeling was the immaturity talking, and it was the immaturity inside him that provoked him to stare straight at Hermione and shout, "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

* * *

><p>Hermione was conflicted almost as much as Draco had been. Well, underneath all the freaking out over the fur on her face. She was glad not to see Draco—she was angry at him, as he'd tried his best to insult her all year—but she'd also wanted to know what he was like around his pure-blood friends. Was he kinder, meaner, or the same? She felt sure that if she went to the Slytherin common room with Harry and Ron, everything would be confirmed for her.<p>

The last thought gave her pause. There was still more Polyjuice potion. If she could keep it long enough to get hairs—human hairs, not cat hairs—she was sure she could see for herself. She wouldn't even have to be someone close to Draco, just a random observer. Though the thought of accidentally getting another wrong hair made her shudder, Hermione was a Gryffindor for a reason, and she felt eager for this idea.

After hearing from Harry and Ron, however, Hermione's hope vanished. Malfoy seemed to put as much jibes at Mudbloods and blood-traitors in one conversation than she dreamed a person could manage. It was as if he said every evil thought that came to his mind, as if he was doing to prove something. At any rate, Hermione at least didn't have to worry about Draco being the one who was causing so many problems at the school with the Camber of Secrets.

It was many weeks later when, just before the next Quidditch match, Hermione ran off to the library, her mind racing with Harry's words about the Chamber. She ran to the section on magical creatures, quickly found the article on basilisks and paused in thought before adding a note to herself. She ripped out the page, not caring about the vandalism in her rush to tell Ron and Harry.

Hermione turned and found a Ravenclaw girl, checking he mirror quickly as she was leaving the library.

"You know, it would probably be a good idea to look around the corners with that mirror," Hermione said. "The monster in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk."

"_Really?_" the girl asked.

"Yes, in fact—" Hermione remembered extending the mirror around the corner and seeing something odd, but she didn't remember anything beyond that.

She'd been petrified by the basilisk.

* * *

><p>"Granger's in the hospital wing again."<p>

"You think she was petrified for real this time?"

"Most likely. She is Muggle-born after all."

The conversation between two third-year Hufflepuffs was making Draco's stomach churn. Last time the rumors had spread about Hermione in the hospital, he spent many nights convincing himself not to go to the hospital wing, but the feeling of his heart being constantly squeezed didn't go away until he heard that she'd been released. No one knew of this, of course, as he did his best to look satisfied at her condition, and they wouldn't know this time around either, even if Draco felt that clenching feeling again. The difference between this one and last was that Granger _was_ petrified and Draco knew he had to visit the hospital wing or his heart would be crushed.

So, late at night, Draco snuck out of his common room and made his way silently along. Snores from Madame Pomfrey reassured Draco, and he briskly made his way to Hermione's bed. The squeezing feeling in his chest returned with vigor at the sight before him. Hermione looked like a statue. Her lively brown eyes were now lifeless, and Draco realized that only when it was gone that Hermione's eyes used to be so warm. In Draco's mind, she was dead.

"Hermione," he whispered saying her first name for what he thought of as the first time. He was actually grateful for the blur caused by the tears in his eyes, as it made Hermione look more asleep than dead. When the first tear fell, Draco closed his eyes and let the rest sweep down as well. His sobs were silent and didn't last long. He'd taught himself both skills in order to seem strong around his father, but now he merely did so to make sure not to wake Madame Pomfrey.

"Hermione I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm so sorry," Draco whispered, determined to make amends whether Hermione knew it or not. "I know I've been campaigning for this for weeks, but it was only to make my father happy. The truth is…I've really admired you, and I don't care about your parentage. I just want to know you. Is that too much to ask? I mean, Crabbe and Goyle are alright, but you're different. You're interesting and smart enough to hold a decent conversation with. In fact I think you're the only one I could hold a real conversation with—one where I don't have to act fake." Draco laughed. "It's funny, I've got a family and friends, but the only person I think I can talk to is a person I've held two conversations with. Isn't my life fantastic?" He spat the last words out bitterly.

"And the worst part is," Draco continued sadly, "if you were a pure-blood, there wouldn't be any problems whatsoever. But no, thanks to my luck and your parentage, we were doomed from the start. It probably would have been better—for me at least—if you hadn't come to my compartment. Then, I wouldn't be here crying because you look as doomed as I feel."

And indeed tears had again welled in Draco's eyes, but he was determined to finish his monologue, ignoring the wobbles in his voice.

"I know you haven't heard a word I said, and that's probably a good thing. Still, I want to tell you that I really care about you Hermione and I wish things could be different, but they can't be. This will, if all things turn out right, be the last time I speak to you on good terms, as it would make my father proud and cause less problems in the future. This is, in essence, a final goodbye. So goodbye, Hermione."

Draco stood up and left, tears still leaking from his eyes occasionally. He made sure his eyes were dry as he entered the common room, but he had an odd feeling in his chest, as if something were wrong. He knew exactly what it was but he also knew that it couldn't be helped. Even if he felt this forever, he'd get used to it eventually. He had to. It was in everyone's best interest.

Except his.


	3. Good Job Granger

Draco knew he had no excuse this time. He'd already gotten his seat, and it was full. Still, that didn't stop him from walking around—with Crabbe and Goyle to lessen any suspicions, of course. When he finally found Hermione, he made a point not to notice her.

"Well, look who it is," he drawled. "Potty and the Weasel."

Malfoy tried his best to sneak glances of Hermione without her notice, but as her eyes were practically boring holes in him, he could barely even take in her bushy hair. He was so distracted that he barely even remembered the insult he gave Weasley, something about gold and his mother. However, when an odd noise made itself heard, Draco finally spotted the fourth person in the compartment. When he discovered it was a teacher, he immediately tried to back out as quickly as possible.

With one last look at Hermione, he, Crabbe and Goyle left.

"Why did you leave, Malfoy?"Crabbed asked when they were out of earshot.

"_Obviously _because there was a teacher. Do you expect me to get a detention the first week of school?" Draco explained in a strained voice.

"But he was asleep," Goyle said.

"And you don't think Weasley would get violent and would somehow wake up the professor?" Draco said, sighing at Goyle's severe lack of intelligence.

"Well, did you see that Mudblood Granger? You didn't say anything about her," Goyle said, the mention of Hermione making Draco's heart skip.

"Yeah, you always come up with the best things with her," Crabbe agreed.

"Maybe I don't care for talking to Mudblood filth like her," Draco said as casually as he could.

Crabbe and Goyle made similar grunts of disappointment. Fortunately for them, the fainting of one Harry Potter would be enough to amuse them for the whole year.

* * *

><p>"…you great ugly brute." Hermione turned just in time to see Malfoy on the ground, red visible on his robes. She heard the scream he'd made and knew she would laugh about it later, but without knowing how badly Buckbeak had attacked him, Hermione feared for Draco's life.<p>

In order to see the wounds better, Hermione ran to help Hagrid by holding the gate open. Looking towards the castle to hide her anxiety, Hermione waited patiently for Hagrid to pass. When he did, she was both relieved and angry to see that it was just a scratch. She glared at Draco before rejoining her classmates.

Pansy seemed on the verge of tears , and seeing this made Hermione get a very odd feeling in her stomach. Being the logical girl that she was, Hermione tried to figure it out, but came up blank. To hide her confusion, she returned to Harry and Ron, who were laughing at Draco's scream, as she predicted.

As they headed to their next class, Hermione kept thinking about all the blood on his robes. Maybe she'd seen wrong or misjudged the depth of the scratch. It could have been really bad.

Finally she had to ask, "D'you think he'll be alright?"

She realized when Ron mentioned Hagrid that she had been focusing on the wrong thing. And she also had the feeling that whatever caused this odd thought process was directly linked to that feeling she had about Pansy. She just had to figure out how to connect the dots.

* * *

><p>Draco decided that if he was going to be wounded, he might as well milk it for all that it was worth. With this wound, he had effectively cancelled a Quidditch match, fired the oaf they called a teacher, and pleased his father all in one. Plus, with the ease at which everyone believed things in this school, Draco could still make the story into something that made him sound heroic and see where that got him. Yes, this injury was turning out to be a perfect opportunity.<p>

Thursday's Potions class proved the injury even more beneficial than he thought. He had Pansy doting over him _and_ he got Snape to torment Potter and Weasley. Not to mention, he could wallow in the fact that he knew more about Sirius Black than Potter did.

And something he would never admit was that the look in Hermione's face every time Pansy said a word and the fact that she was acting positively mutinous towards Snape by helping Neville made Draco happier than he should have been.

* * *

><p>Hermione knew, without any doubt, that this would be her worst year at Hogwarts. There was just too much: too many classes with too much homework, the confusion of a time-turner plus the secrecy of it, Buckbeak's possible execution in weeks unless she did something about it, Harry's Grim problem, and to top it all off—Harry and Ron not talking to her because she'd tried to save Harry's life.<p>

Okay, so if the Firebolt was completely safe, she wouldn't have necessarily saved his life, but she _could have_. Why couldn't they see that she had only been trying to _help_? Then, with Ron blaming Crookshanks for Scabbers's "death", Hermione had no one to talk to.

Now Hermione was forced to avoid the common room thanks to Harry and Ron, and she spent most of her days in the library, either doing homework, researching for Buckbeak, or crying in a hidden alcove. Occasionally she went to Hagrid's, but as she had hardly any information and those visits made her cry as well, she kept them to a minimum.

Hermione knew when the stress levels were way too high when she got a voice in her head that said, _I really care about you Hermione_. This voice was usually accompanied by a vision of Draco. Therefore, Hermione could only believe that when this happened, her stress levels were so high that they were making her insane. When else would she think of Draco saying he cared about her?

Coincidentally, Draco Malfoy _would_ show up out of nowhere when she was crying. It wasn't every time, but it happened enough that she knew it was making him curious. Once, instead of just hurrying past, Draco actually sat down next to her.

"If you're here to pester me, you might as well leave," she said shakily. "I'm really not in the mood to deal with you."

"Actually, Granger, I wanted to know why every time I walk by this part of the library, you're in here crying."

"Why do you care? I'm just a filthy Mudblood aren't I?" Hermione spat.

"Well, while that's true, being a filthy Mudblood doesn't excuse you from causing me confusion," Draco said. "Now will you tell me, or will I be forced to spread the rumor that your boyfriend Weasley ended your relationship."

Hermione laughed. "First of all, Ron and I were never together, and second of all, part of me _is_ crying over him. Him, Harry, schoolwork and Buckbeak—the hippogriff you've been trying to execute, if you didn't know."

Draco sounded offended when he snapped, "I have _not_ been trying to get it executed."

"Oh yeah, then what's the point of keeping those stupid bandages on?" Hermione said, jabbing her finger at the sling on Draco's arm.

"To get Hagrid sacked of course, plus there's loads of other—"

"How dare you!" Hermione yelled, jumping to her feet angrily. "You don't even know him! He's the kindest, sweetest, most helpful person there is. But of course, you don't know what that's like, since you surround yourself with evil gits like Pansy."

"Pansy?" Draco said knowingly. "So she's worse than Crabbe and Goyle?"

"You know perfectly well what I—"

"I do know what you mean," Draco said, standing up so that he was looking Hermione in the eye. When grey met brown, Hermione felt like she was being sucked in, with no control. "You like me, don't you, Granger?"

"I—why—but—I do not!" Hermione spluttered, thinking too much of those grey eyes to think too clearly.

"You do," Draco said, taking a step toward her. "You think I don't notice how jealous of Pansy you are?"

"_Jealous_?" Hermione spat, though her heart was racing. They were much too close. "I am not—"

"Of course you are," Draco said with a grin. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"You're ridiculous!"Hermione cried, finally taking control of herself again. She grabbed her things and stormed out of the library, shoving traitorous thoughts that Draco was right as far away from her conscious mind as possible.

* * *

><p>Draco watched Hermione go, feeling better than he had in days. Given, he had a tiny ball of guilt inside him, remembering his goodbye he'd made last year. He was completely going against everything he planned for, but he really could have cared less. He saw the truth in Hermione's eyes, a truth that mirrored his own.<p>

Still, as happy as he was about it, he didn't really see the need to push it any farther. He'd act normally from now on, and just let that seed of truth grow in Hermione. That way, his father could have no reason to be angry at him until things culminated. After that, well, Draco would just deal with things as they crossed his path.

What Draco never could have prepared for, however, was Hermione slapping him.

Caught off guard, Draco staggered, his cheek burning furiously from the force of her slap. He had seen the look on her face, but he'd had no time to register what it meant. Now, as Hermione pulled her wand on him, Draco saw the pure, volatile rage that was on her features, and it was practically pushing him backwards. One emotion ran through him at that moment: fear.

"C'mon," he managed to murmur to Crabbe and Goyle before he hurried away from the enraged witch.

"How _dare_ that Mudblood touch you," Goyle raged once they entered the castle. "You should have jinxed her."

"Exactly!" Crabbe exclaimed. "Who does she think she is, anyway?"

"Yeah, you're right," Draco agreed weakly, rubbing his cheek. He could still feel Hermione's hand on his face, and was sure there was a red handprint. He knew he should be angry at Hermione, but all he could feel was admiration. He never knew she was strong enough, never knew she would even do anything like that. He felt…proud of her for standing up to him, not just accepting his words.

All he could think was, _Good job, Granger_.

* * *

><p>Hermione hardly paid any attention in her next class. She was too focused on the fact that she's just hit Malfoy. She wanted to feel bad, and in any other circumstances, she probably would have. But after that encounter with Draco in the library, for him to act as if she wouldn't react from another jibe at Hagrid was just asking for it. Plus, she knew that without all the stress of the year getting to her, she would never have been able to express her feelings quite as clearly.<p>

All in all, Hermione was proud of herself. Still, rage was exhausting and she felt herself fall asleep soon after her class. She felt a nagging feeling of forgetting something, but she ignored it. That is, until Ron woke her up.

"I forgot to go to Charms!" she squealed, jumping right back into the stress once more. Only the closeness of exams kept her going, as she knew she would get to calm down soon after them.

Unfortunately for Hermione, a rat, a big black dog, and a werewolf would even ruin those plans for her…


	4. Forbidden Dance: Part 1

A/N: So sorry for the late update! I've been busy with school stuff (bleh) Plus this is a long chapter. There _will_ be 2 parts, because fourth year is so long. So, I'll post part 2 soon and make up for my crappy update skills

* * *

><p>From the protection of the trees, Draco watched the Death Eaters, one of them his own father, cause complete havoc in the campsite of the World Cup. He knew he should be amused, but the thought of one particular Muggle-born worried him.<p>

Ironically, he heard the voice of this Muggle-born anxiously asking about the fate of the Weasel. When her wand lit up, and Draco saw her, frightened but unharmed, he knew he had to make his presence known, and what better way than to insult Weasley. Then, as soon as he could, he made sure they knew how much danger Hermione was in.

"…You wouldn't like _her_ spotted, would you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco saw the anger in her eyes, and knew she wasn't getting his message.

"Granger, they're after _Muggles_," Draco said, trying to give the meaning in his eyes instead of his voice so as not to give too much away to Potter and Weasley. He seemed to be doing a good job of it, based on Potter's reaction.

"Hermione's a witch," he snarled.

"Have it your way, Potter. If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are." Draco knew that his father would recognize Hermione right away.

"You watch your mouth," Weasley yelled. This enraged Draco. Could they not tell that he was trying to warn them? Were they that stupid? He nearly yelled at them, but Hermione spoke first, and her words made Draco relax immediately.

"Never mind, Ron," she said, trying to stop him from attacking Draco. He looked at her again, and they locked eyes. She knew what he was doing, if the rest of them didn't.

Draco, relieved, kept up his usual unpleasantness until they finally ran off, and he couldn't help but say, "Keep that big bushy head down, Granger."

It was the closest he could get to, _Stay safe, Hermione_.

* * *

><p>Hermione's head was whirling as she raced through the forest again. She knew Draco had been warning her and she was grateful for it, but another thought ran through her head—something Harry had said before they left Draco. <em>Where're <em>your_ parents? Out there wearing masks, are they?_

That would explain everything. That was why Draco wasn't scared and why he thought the Death Eaters would recognize her. What she didn't understand, though, was why Draco was trying to protect her in the first place. Did he not believe in his father's own mantras? Or was it just Hermione that Draco was worried about? The latter seemed most likely, as she thought of the cruel way he'd laughed at the Muggles. It didn't give Hermione satisfaction to know this; in fact it made her feel sick. That was the precise reason why Hermione again shoved it away.

It seemed that her relationship with Draco consisted of that action, shoving away thoughts of him, thoughts inspired by veiled meanings. She was sure that she had to have some interpretations wrong, surely, Draco wasn't skilled enough to put that much meaning in such cruel statements as he did. _Well, whatever the meaning before_, Hermione thought, _Draco was definitely trying to protect me tonight._

And this thought was the only one that didn't get shoved to the depths of her mind.

* * *

><p>It was all Draco could do not to run from Moody's office in horror. It was the most bizarre experience of his life, being a ferret—and not in a good way. And to be flung around by Moody's wand was that much more bizarre—and probably the scariest thing Draco had been through.<p>

Briskly walking through the halls, Draco spotted Pansy, who must have been unaware of the ferret incident, as she didn't even mention it, nor Hermione, who she ranted on about constantly. Instead, she was smiling mischievously.

"You'll never believe what I told Skeeter," Pansy said excitedly.

"What did you tell Skeeter?" Draco said in monotone to cover up his terror at the memories of ferret-hood.

Pansy ignored the lack of interest. "I just told her that Potter's in love with Granger!"

That got Draco's attention, though he immediately smothered any signs that may have shown on his face and said, "Only a child would think that's funny, Pansy—I mean, how often have we heard that before?"

"Well, she got the 'proof' from a Gryffindor—Creevy," Pansy said reluctantly.

"I don't know, Pansy, we'll see," Draco said, and continued down the hall without another word.

* * *

><p>Hermione knew it was an accident, that Draco hadn't pointed his want at her directly, but she couldn't help but think that her teeth "problem" was his fault. After all, he <em>had<em> just made another Mudblood jab and Harry was defending her. Though she _had_ tried to warn Harry against it.

Hermione didn't necessarily think of the jinx that had hit her as bad, not any more. Sure, Pansy still shrieked to whoever would listen that Hermione looked like a beaver or something along those lines. But to have gotten her teeth to look normal, not buckteeth in any way, Hermione felt like she'd drunk a dose of Felix Felicius.

This was probably why, when she saw Krum in the library, Hermione sat within speaking distance. The fan-girls hadn't arrived yet, so Hermione felt peaceful enough. She expected him to studiously ignore her, as always, but he looked up.

"Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione almost didn't respond, she was so shocked. "Oh, er, yes?"

"I haf been trying to ask you for a vile, but I haf never gotten the chance until now," he said.

"To ask me…what exactly?" Hermione asked, getting nervous.

"Vill you go to the Yule Ball vith me?"

Hermione hesitated, sure that she'd misunderstood his accent.

"Do I want to…go to the ball with you?" Hermione asked.

Krum nodded.

Hermione hesitated again, but as she felt she wouldn't get asked by anyone else, she could only reply with, "Of course."

* * *

><p>Draco walked through the procession with everyone else, Pansy at his side. The events leading to their being dates to the ball were really uneventful. Pansy asked Draco, and Draco accepted without thought because, after all, he didn't care about silly things like Yule Balls, as he'd been to so many as a child with his father and mother.<p>

Draco, bored by the formality, looked around at the others-the champions specifically. He passed his eyes over them one-by-one. He noted that Krum's expression had a tiny bit less brooding about it. Draco's eyes flitted to Krum's date, which he assumed was why he was happier. The girl was definitely pretty. It was no wonder—

Draco did a double-take. Almost unrecognizable with her bushy hair smoothed, Hermione Granger was dancing from one foot to the other in anxiety. Her dress robes made her look beautiful. No, _everything_ made her look beautiful. She was like a new person, only…not.

"Draco, who are you looking at? Draco? Hello—Draco! _Draco!_" Pansy jabbed Draco in the ribs, making him jump.

"Pansy, what—"

"You were looking at Fleur, weren't you?" Pansy interrupted him. "She's part vela, so that would make sense. Yes, of course, that was it."

Not wanting Pansy to know who he was really looking at, Draco just nodded, but he kept casting glances in Hermione's direction throughout the dinner, and indeed between dances. It was just such an occasion when Draco saw Hermione standing all alone. Making a quick excuse to Pansy, Draco hurried over to her.

Without even asking, Draco took her hand and pulled her to the dance floor. He ignored her squeak of surprise when she saw him, and immediately said, "You look quite lovely tonight."

"I—er, thanks," she said, turning pink. "You look nice as well."

"Nice?" Draco asked, spinning Hermione around as the dance called for.

"Excuse me for being at a loss of words right now," Hermione said with amusement.

"Oh no, I completely understand, after seeing you," Draco said.

"I'm not sure Pansy would appreciate you saying that," said Hermione with a glance in Pansy's direction. She was dancing with Blaise Zabini.

"Pansy isn't here, is she?" Draco said mischievously.

"How _do_ you stand all that shrieking?" Hermione asked suddenly as she and Draco turned together.

"You learn to ignore it," Draco answered. "But I didn't ask you to this dance so that we could talk about Pansy."

"I don't exactly remember you _asking_, exactly."

"That's beside the point. Anyway, I was wondering if you gave any thought to our conversation in the library."

"Oh, you mean the one before I slapped you for making fun of Hagrid?" Hermione asked icily. "Besides, Mudbloods are off limits for you, aren't we?"

"Do you remember what I called you on our first train ride to this school?" Draco said, making sure their eyes were locked together.

"Er…besides Mudblood, no," Hermione said with a quizzical expression on her face.

"You're an exception, Granger," Draco said. "In every way."

They were inches from each other, toe-to-toe. The song had ended, only the murmur of the crowd around them as the lights changed. Draco wasn't sure what he'd been about to do—kiss her most likely—when Pansy's voice shoved its way into his befuddled brain. He stepped back, and just managed to hear Hermione say something about talking to Harry and Ron.

* * *

><p>Hermione ran from her argument with Ron, not knowing exactly where she was going. Tears were blurring her vision as she ran down a hall, so she didn't know someone else was there until she ran straight into them.<p>

"Oh, I-I'm so sorry, I—Draco?"

And it was, indeed, Draco who was standing next to her, straightening his robes. Hermione made sure to wipe her cheeks of the tear tracks accumulating there, but she couldn't hide the involuntary sniff that immediately alerted Draco to the fact that she was crying.

"Is something wrong, Granger?" he asked.

"No, I mean—well, yes, but—oh it's just Victor and you and Ron, and—I've never had my affections toyed with so much with in my life," Hermione said, attempting a smile.

"_Had your affections—_do you assume that I was flirting with you?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, yes. So, I'm an exception?" Somehow, this interaction was making her feel better. She was already smiling.

Draco looked around as if making sure the hallway was clear before saying, "Follow me, Granger."

As they walked, Hermione had to asked, "So why were _you_ in this hallway?"

"Let's just say that Pansy didn't like that I was dancing with a…well, you," Draco said-he was avoiding the use of the word Mudblood. He'd lead her to one of the larger broom cupboards, which didn't completely thrill Hermione, but she continued the converastion anyway while they both lit up their wands.

"That's funny," Hermione said. "Ron didn't like my dancing partner either. Though he didn't see _our_ dance."

"I figured that he or Potter would have asked you to the dance," Draco admitted.

"Ron tried, but I just can't see being with either of them as being more than just like brothers to me," Hermione said, not sure why she was telling Draco this.

"Well Krum seems odd. Did _you_ ask him?" Draco asked. Hermione wasn't quite sure why Draco was asking, but she answered any way.

"No, he asked me, but I have to agree, it is quite odd."

"So…forgiving my terrible insult to Hagrid, did you ever rethink that conversation I asked you about?"

It came so quickly and suddenly that Hermione had to answer truthfully, "Almost every day."

"Really?" Draco asked with interest. Hermione was suddenly aware of how confined they were in the broom closet.

"Well, nearly," she said quickly, her cheeks feeling suddenly warm. "Especially during the Quidditch World Cup. Thanks for warning me, by the way."

"I wanted you to be safe," Draco said, turning a bit pink himself. Then he sighed, and added, "Did you know I visited you when you were petrified?"

"You-I…no," Hermione breathed. Suddenly the words came back to her for the first time since that stressful third year. _I really care about you, Hermione_.

"I did, and I promised that I would never speak to you on good terms again," Draco said. "Of course, I broke that soon enough—right now for instance."

"Why are you telling me this, Draco?" Hermione said softly. She was shaking suddenly, as if expecting something big.

"Because, Hermione," Draco said exasperatedly, "I thought it would be a good thing—that I would stop caring about you in a way I knew I shouldn't—but all it's done is cause me to want you more. I want to have another conversation like that first one on that train ride. I want to be around you when you smile. I want…I want…"

But Draco went no farther. Hermione only registered that he seemed to be giving into something as he leaned down, just before kissing her full on the mouth.

It was as if Hermione had a spark flare up inside her. Her heart seemed about to explode with emotion, and her hands stopped their shaking. Instead, they found themselves on Draco's shoulders, one continuing on its way into his white-blond hair, holding on as if he was something valuable about to slip away. Draco himself had his hands cupping her cheeks. He moved them slowly upwards to her hair, and, finding the pin holding up the knot she'd so carefully put it in, pulled it out and caused her hair to tumble down to her shoulders again. This action brought Hermione somewhat back to reality, and she pulled away with a gasp.

"Oh, I really shouldn't be doing this," she breathed.

"Why not?" Draco asked quietly, his breath tickling her cheeks.

The thing was, Hermione really didn't know the answer, not in that moment. "It-it's just too surreal. I mean, _you_ of all people…I have to be dreaming.

"Is this what you dream about, Granger?" Draco said with a laugh. Hermione was really having problems thinking with Draco so close like this.

"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean," she said, unable to stop a grin.

"So am I still just toying with your affections, or have I won them?" Draco asked with a crooked smile in return.

"You—oh no, Krum!" Hermione exclaimed. She saw Draco's face fall, and quickly added, "No, it's not that. He went to go get drinks ages ago, and oh, he must think me so rude!"

Hermione opened the broom cupboard door, and left. Draco followed, saying, "Yes, we should probably go back, now that I think about it."

They walked down the hall in complete silence until Hermione stopped suddenly.

"Draco, what does this mean for us?" she asked anxiously.

Draco sighed as truth began crashing through his thoughts. "In my head, a whole number of things, but in reality, probably nothing. With my parents and your parentage, _us_ just isn't possible. I'm sorry, Hermione."

"I figured that's what you would say," Hermione said sadly, walking again. "I guess it would just be better if we avoided each other and try to act like we normally do."

Draco pulled on Hermione's arm, stopping her again just before the door that lead to the Great Hall.

"Kiss me, Hermione. One last time, please," he pleaded.

Hermione looked into his stormy grey eyes for a long time. Then she shook her head. "If I do, it will only make us both feel worse. Just…remember the kiss we had, the moment where nothing mattered for once. Let's both hold on to that moment. Promise me that, and promise that we'll avoid each other to spare ourselves. I promise the same for you."

Draco looked like he wanted to argue, but he only gave her a quick "I promise", and they entered the Hall again.


	5. Forbidden Dance: Part 2

A/N: See, guys? I updated quickly! Hope you like it :)

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><p>Draco left the Ball soon after to go to his common room. He couldn't just pretend that nothing had happened, pretend that his heart didn't ache when Krum took her hand in his. On top of that, Draco was frustrated—with the world, with fate, with logic, and with himself. How was it that the only girl in his sights was the one he couldn't have? He looked back on the kiss Hermione had told him to remember. How could he forget it? It was the one moment where he'd let go of his own restraints and allowed himself the thing he wanted most of all. It felt so powerful, and he wanted more.<p>

But Hermione was right, if she had kissed him, he would have felt that they could find a way to get around everything, when he knew that it wouldn't work. They would only cause themselves more despair.

In his bed, Draco turned over, smothering his face into his pillow and letting out a growl of frustration. Why was it that he had to go and kiss her in the first place? He had faltered in his careful control of his emotions. In fact, they had controlled him, seeing as how until that moment, thoughts of kissing her hadn't crossed his mind. He could blame it all on that stupid dance he'd had with her—he'd gotten too close and wanted more. And then, seeing her crying, so vulnerable, he'd just given in. He wanted to say that the worst part was that he liked it, relished the feeling of her lips on his, the feel of her skin and her fingers in his hair, but it hadn't been. The worst part was that _she kissed him back_.

She had liked it, too, he could tell. Tell by the way she'd gotten closer, by the way she'd clung to him, and by her bloody_ sadness_ before they departed. She wanted this nearly as much as he did, and that just made things _difficult_. If she'd jumped away in disgust, slapped him again, or at least ran off, leaving him to wonder at her thoughts, then he'd just fill with anger and move on, keeping her as his enemy and nothing more. But no, now he had to wallow in despair about the relationship he couldn't have.

"Erm…Draco?" It was Crabbe, having returned early from the Ball for reasons Draco didn't care for.

"_What?_" Draco spat, with as much venom he could muster. He was satisfied when Crabbe took a step back.

"I-I was just-just wondering what you were doing. Pansy's angry because—"

"Shut up!" Draco said, knowing what was coming. "Why don't you run off to Goyle? Merlin knows he can't remember his way to the bloody dormitories without your assistance."

"Okay…if you insist…" Crabbe was backing towards the door now.

"I _do_ insist, you blubbering idiot!" Draco yelled. "Leave. Me. _Alone!"_

Crabbe left then, slamming the door behind him, and Draco sunk back to his pillow.

* * *

><p>Of course Hermione noticed when he'd left the room, but she still couldn't help looking around for him over Viktor's shoulders. Once Draco's presence was gone, Hermione was left with memories, and for some reason, only the bad ones cropped up.<p>

In her mind's eye, Hermione saw Draco picking on first-years, making fun of Harry, and all the other vile things he tended to do. That was purely Draco—without any blood-line restriction there. Because, she realized, Malfoy was still the same Malfoy who she decided she didn't like purely because he was a bully.

Thinking back on the kiss, Hermione realized that her emotions had been running high. She had been caught up in the excitement, angry because of Ron's jealousy, and just plain surprised that Draco had talked to her. Of course she had acted the way she did.

Now, she would just avoid him at all costs, hoping that it would steer her mind away from any justifications of their relationship being possible, because it _wasn't_.

Even if the feeling of his lips against hers had been absolutely intoxicating.

And if his hair had been so soft to the touch.

"Stop it, _stop it_," she'd chided herself under her breath.

"Vot vas that?" Krum asked.

"Oh, nothing," Hermione said with a reassuring grin.

She was grateful for Ron and Harry's interruption when Viktor said goodnight to her, as she was fairly positive he'd wanted a kiss from her. At that moment she'd hardly cared that she felt another argument coming on between Ron and her, as long as she didn't have another kiss confusing her judgments. One was quite enough.

But the argument between her and Ron had been almost as confusing as a kiss. She really didn't know why she had to tell him to ask her before anyone else did. She just had the tiniest feeling that her emotions wouldn't have been such a wreck if Ron had simply asked her. Then he wouldn't have fought with her and she would have never run into Draco, and the kiss wouldn't have happened.

Still, she couldn't lie to herself and say it wasn't wonderful—it was. It was a perfect first kiss, even if she had shared it with the person she'd least expected to.

* * *

><p>All the blood drained from Draco's face when he saw the eagle owl and the red letter it was holding the next morning at breakfast. As soon as the Howler dropped on the table, Draco stood up—the dishes rattling as he caught his knee on the table—and ran out the doors to, ironically, the same broom closet he'd shared with Hermione the night before.<p>

He'd barely shut the door when it exploded, "DID YOU HONESTLY THINK WE WOULD NOT FIND THIS OUT! DANCING WITH A MUDBLOOD! HOW DARE YOU EVEN TOUCH ONE, DRACO, ESPECIALLY WITH WHAT IS GOING ON! THIS MATTER WILL BE ATTENDED TO THE SECOND YOU COME HOME! FOR NOW, KNOW THAT YOUR MOTHER AND I ARE COMPLETELY DISGUSTED AND IF ANOTHER INCIDENT OCCURS AGAIN, WE WILL PULL YOU OUT OF SCHOOL IN AN INSANT!"

Draco breathed again when the thing flared up. Pansy had probably just told her mother about his dance, and she had told _his_ mother, who had told his father. No one had heard about the events in the broom cupboard.

Of course Lucius had told Draco about his ever-darkening Dark Mark, and that any affiliation with Mudbloods would be against everyone's interest. But Draco couldn't care less. He was at Hogwarts, and besides, Hermione and Draco had already decided to keep away from each other, so it wasn't like any incident _could_ occur again, not if they both kept their promises.

Draco walked out of the broom cupboard, and headed back to his dormitory, lacking something better to do. As he was picking up his dress robes from the night before, something made a tinkling sound on the ground. Draco realized it was the pin he'd pulled out of Hermione's hair. He must have absently slipped it in his robe pocket later on the night before.

Draco stared at it. It was a simple pin really, diamond-encrusted and made of gold. He figured that it may have been expensive to Hermione, but would be nothing to his own mother. Draco turned it over and over in his hands, debating whether their promises excluded giving back an item. Eventually, Draco realized that he didn't really want to risk it, not when there was a chance he would be even more depressed than he already was. He pocketed the pin, and moved on to other things.

* * *

><p>Hermione kept to her word throughout the rest of the school year, making sure to even keep Ron and Harry away from Draco so she wouldn't have to break up one of their fights. That being said, she barely listened when they mentioned Draco looking like he was using a walkie-talkie in her desperation to keep them away. But listen she did, and soon, the connection with Rita Skeeter hit.<p>

It came when she glanced over at Malfoy. She really hated how much he was making fun of Harry, but she'd already accepted that he was a bully, no matter how amazing his kisses were. Hermione shook that thought from her mind and turned her thoughts to figuring out about Rita Skeeter's plans, when the memory of the walkie-talkie thing came to mind.

Draco, done with imitating Harry, had cast a longing (was it really longing or had she imagined it?) look at Hermione. That was when the memory of the kiss took over, and suddenly Hermione ran fingers through her hair, remembering the way it had fallen that night.

"Are you alright?" Ron's voice brought her out of her daze.

"Yes," Hermione breathed. She allowed herself to run her hand through her hair one more time before the theory ran through her head again. Rita Skeeter was an animagus—but what exactly could she be? It had to be small enough to hold in a hand. Hermione had to leave and research animagi.

Leaving a vague explanation for Ron and Harry to interpret, Hermione left, knowing full well she had an exam to do soon. She found the information soon enough, and headed back to exams and then the third task, where she was confident Harry would do well. He'd mastered all his spells really well, so she just sat back to enjoy the task…

* * *

><p>Draco knew, in the back of his mind, what had happened when Karkaroff had run off. He knew that Voldemort had come back and Karkaroff was either leaving in fear or going to the Dark Lord. Draco suspected the former. This was probably why, when Potter came back with Diggory's body, Draco merely turned to where the Gryffindors sat, searching for that bushy hair.<p>

He found it soon enough, but she wasn't looking at him, of course not. She didn't know what Karkaroff leaving signified. She didn't yet know that Diggory wasn't dead because of the Tournament. Draco knew that all she cared about was Harry Potter, and what had happened to him. This hurt Draco unreasonably, and he felt stupid, knowing there were other things he should care about at the moment. He looked away from Hermione and began to do so. Voldemort was back, and—if his father was an intelligent man—Lucius would have come at the Mark's burn. He would likely tell Draco everything he needed to know, so Draco moved on to Cedric's body. Did Voldemort kill him? Most likely. But why kill a pureblooded wizard? Draco didn't have an answer, and before he knew it he was being escorted by the prefects of Slytherin house, who were leading students back inside. Of course he didn't sleep that night and instead sent an owl to his father to confirm his suspicions.

The next morning, however, some of Draco's suspicions were confirmed. Dumbledore's speech about Voldemort's return and his plea for them to join together was barely heard by Draco. He let himself worry over the things his father would write, but it wasn't long before he began casting glances over at Hermione. Voldemort's return meant that she was in danger, and especially if Draco showed any amount of care for her.

Then, surprisingly, Hermione's eyes met Draco's. She jerked her head towards the entrance of the Great Hall, and Draco, knowing immediately what she was signaling for, nodded. When Dumbledore's speech had finished, Draco left, keeping his eyes on Hermione as much as he could. Seeing as how she hardly looked at him, Draco just followed her to wherever she was going.

Hermione led him to an empty classroom, promptly locking the door behind them. When she turned around, Draco saw the tears forming in her eyes. She quickly rubbed them away, and then said, "Well, I guess we both know what this means."

"Yeah, we do," Draco said. It wasn't much, but he wasn't really sure what else to say. He knew two things: that he hadn't been this close to Hermione for nearly a semester and that he had wanted to comfort her more than he knew was normal.

"Well, we've been doing well so far, keeping our promises," Hermione said.

"And yet we're breaking them right now," Draco couldn't help but point out. That's when he remembered the pin that he was still carrying in his pocket since the Yule Ball.

"Yes, but what about-about the other promise?" Hermione asked nervously. "Did you—"

"I keep my promises, Granger," Draco said before the memory overwhelmed him. He pulled out the pin. "And how could I forget when I've got this to remind me?"

"Is that…that's my hair-pin from-from that night?" Hermione whispered. "I've wondered—but does this mean that you've been carrying it around all this time?"

"No, Granger, I thought I'd carry it today, knowing full well I'd talk to you for the first time since that night," Draco spat bitterly. "Looks like Divination is paying off."

"There's no need to be that way," Hermione retorted. "I was just surprised that you…cared."

"Well, it doesn't bloody matter anymore does it?" Draco said angrily. "The Dark Lord's back, and any association I have with a Mudblood like you will just lead to problems for the both of us. You're in enough danger already just from being born—you don't need any more attention from him."

Hermione stepped forward. Draco tried to avoid her eyes, but when she touched his cheek, he had to look at her, if only to find out what she was doing.

"Draco, you care about me," she said. It was the surprise in her voice that provoked his next reaction.

"Of course I care about you, Granger!" he blurted out. When he realized what he said, Draco tried to cover up his mistake. "I mean, I'm _worried_ about you. The Dark Lord—"

"Don't ruin it, Draco," Hermione interrupted. "I care about you, too."

And she moved even closer, planting a gentle kiss on his lips that didn't last nearly as long as it should have, in Draco's mind.

"Granger—" he wasn't sure what he'd been about to say, but it didn't really matter.

"I have to go," Hermione said. "Ron will be wondering where I am."

"Gr-Hermione, don't leave," Draco pleaded. "It doesn't have to be like this."

"You and I both know it _does_ have to be like this," Hermione said without turning around.

Draco knew he should have said something—anything—to prove Hermione wrong, but he couldn't think of one word. So he let her go.


	6. Secrets and Surprises

Hermione couldn't really explain why exactly she was glad that Draco was a prefect. There were many reasons to hate it for sure—the fact that even with attempts to distance herself from him, they would still have to do prefect duties together was a prominent one, quickly followed by the fact that he was a Death Eater's son at a time when Voldemort was rising in power. And yet here she was being happy about it. Hermione had to be insane, didn't she? She kept making promises to stay away from him and breaking them every time. Wasn't that the definition of insanity?

As it turned out, however, Hermione didn't need worry about prefect duties. When she and Draco patrolled the corridors together—the only time prefects of other houses worked together—they didn't say anything, not even a greeting. Hermione felt that it was for the best. They couldn't tempt each other and they couldn't tempt themselves into getting close again.

And then Umbridge's reign had begun to anger Hermione more than anything ever had in her life. She was all for reading, but learning consisted of a mixture of reading and practical application of what has been read, especially in magic, and _definitely_ in the OWL exams. The thought of having Harry as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—secretly, of course—would fix this problem.

And with this idea also came other ideas, including one with Draco being involved with them. If they were hiding everything from the High Inquisitor, then it would be secret from the rest of the school anyway. Anyone who would see Draco wouldn't be about to run off and tell his father, because that would give the whole thing away, essentially getting themselves in just as much trouble. Besides, Draco was an intelligent person. He knew that Umbridge's teaching would get him nowhere, and he needed to know the material. There was no way he could refuse.

* * *

><p>"No, Granger."<p>

Draco saw the hope in Hermione's eyes and he felt terrible crushing it, but he knew it had to be done. They were on their regular patrols and Hermione had asked him if he'd want to join a secret group of hers under Umbridge's nose.

"But Draco—"

"No, Granger, it's not happening. Firstly, groups like those get found out sooner or later because someone rats or someone is too careless, and I'd be in greater trouble than anyone else in your little group. Secondly, _you_ were the one who made me promise to stay away from you, and like I said, I keep my promises." Draco paused, taking a breath, and said, "And thirdly, I meant what I said when I told you that you'd be in danger if you were associated with me. I still don't want you getting hurt, Granger."

"Yes, that all makes sense, but—" Hermione seemed to be getting desperate.

"_No_—no buts. There is no way that I could join you, and you know it. Stop trying to make excuses, Granger, and start _thinking_. Use that brain you're so well-known for. As much as you try, there's always going to be some way that this will fail." When Draco saw her mouth open again in protest, Draco quickly added, "Can we _please_ go back to patrolling, instead of talking ourselves through a brick wall?"

Hermione huffed angrily, but didn't say anything. Draco felt bad, but he knew he had just prevented a disaster. The truth was, the idea had appealed to Draco much more than he'd liked. He had been trying not to convince himself as well as Hermione, though he knew his points were right. If there was even the slimmest chance that they would get caught, Draco couldn't risk it, as much for Hermione as himself.

They stayed in silence for a few minutes more, but Hermione again interrupted it. "You don't have to be like your father, you know."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Draco said, feeling himself begin to bristle.

"You don't have to follow in his footsteps—or in your mother's for that matter," Hermione explained. "You _can_ be something other than You-Know-Who's Death Eater. You _could_—"

"Go against my family's beliefs?" Draco asked.

"Well, look at your aunt-Andromeda," Hermione pointed out. "_She_ married a Muggle-born."

"Andromeda is no longer considered part of my family, much less my aunt," Draco growled. "And my parents already get enough grief about her. If I were to do the same as her, our family would practically be seen as blood-traitors."

"Draco, that's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated now.

"Oh, I see that you've become an expert of the Dark Lord over the years!" Draco burst out. "And an expert of my family as well! Tell me, Granger, you intelligent girl—why hasn't my father left the Dark Lord, even if he's absolutely frightened? Why did my father leave his comfortable Dark-Lord-free lifestyle if he no longer cared for his methods? Oh, that's right—because he would _die_ otherwise!"

"No, Draco, it's because your father is a coward!" Hermione yelled back. "He's too weak to join another, stronger side, because of his fear and his ignorant ideals!"

"_Don't talk about my family like that!"_ Draco exploded, rounding on her. "Don't pretend you know me, Granger! You don't know what it's like, living in complete fear that the Dark Lord might just try to punish my father for his disloyalty, that _I_ might be the target of his punishment. You don't know what it's like questioning the beliefs of everyone in your life, knowing that voicing it will get you killed or shunned. You don't have problems like that with your happy little Muggle home, do you? _Do you, Granger?_"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth many times before finally letting out a tiny, "No…"

Draco could have stopped right there—he should have stopped there—but Hermione had lit a fire in him and it wasn't about to be put out. "Do you think I want to live a life like that? I thought everything was nice and fine before I came here—before I met you—and my entire world came crashing down around me. And then it was hard enough trying to get my father to get over the fact that I didn't hate a Mudblood from the first word. And now that the Dark Lord returned I got punished for a simple dance—"

And here was where Draco's burning anger was doused in one quick move. He didn't want to tell her how his father had punished him over that summer, because he knew that it would only lower Hermione's view of his father. Like an abused puppy that didn't really know much better, Draco was loyal to his father, and wouldn't leave his family even if he could. The truth was that shunning or disownment would be nearly as painful for Draco as the abuse he received from Lucius.

"Draco?" Hermione asked. "What did your father do to punish you for—"

"It doesn't matter, Mudblood," Draco spat. He realized that they were almost nose-to-nose by now, and he stepped back, giving Hermione a disgusted look before walking briskly away. "Our parole is over."

"But we've still got half an hour left!" Hermione called after him.

"Yeah, well, have a nice half-hour without me!" Draco said over his shoulder, stalking down the hall.

* * *

><p><em>Well that didn't work at all<em>, Hermione thought as she watched Draco's form turn the corner.

She wasn't so much focused on the original plan any more as she was on the torment she saw in Draco's eyes when he mentioned his father's punishments. He was scared of his own father—really scared—and Hermione thought she knew why. Hadn't she seen the tiny hints with Draco's father in public—the way he would correct Draco by hitting him with the cane? And Draco would respond immediately as if he'd been beaten loads of times, with much more force.

Hermione knew that Draco would just shove off any attempts of hers to pry, to figure out what had made Draco stop so suddenly in his rage. From what Hermione had seen in his eyes, it had to have been terrible. But she was determined to figure it out. Call it the Gryffindor in her, but Hermione wasn't about to stop. She would use every patrol with Draco to question him

Lucky for Hermione, her next patrol with Draco was only two days away. _Unlucky_ for Hermione, she used the wrong method. She pounced on Draco almost immediately, giving him no time to process anything but anger.

When they had turned to an empty corridor, Hermione blurted out, "So how did your father find out about our dance? And what did he do to you for it?"

Draco scowled at Hermione and snapped, "What does it matter to you? I thought we weren't supposed to care about each other anymore."

"I-I don't remember saying anything about not caring—just that we couldn't, well, be seen together," Hermione said, abandoning all thoughts of Lucius now.

"Be _seen_ together?" Draco asked. "As if we're hiding something? As if we actually have something?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, angry at Draco's bitterness. "I just meant—oh, it doesn't matter! You're right; I liked it better when I didn't talk to you." This, of course, was a complete lie, but the force behind her words was believable.

"Good!" Draco spat.

"Fine!" Hermione growled back.

And the rest of the patrol was silent, both fuming internally.

* * *

><p>Draco never saw Hermione again on the patrols because they weren't scheduled together until after Umbridge's new policy of the Inquisitorial Squad. Combine that with Hermione's secret club that Draco knew full well was going on, and Draco hadn't seen Hermione outside of classes. This relaxed Draco more than it should have. He hadn't wanted to tell Hermione anything, but he knew she would have been able to convince him at some point during the school year.<p>

It wasn't as if Draco had any worse of a punishment than he expected. He had come home and his father had welcomed him as usual. And then, as the Howler threatened, Lucius told Draco to follow him to the dungeons. Draco's stomach had dropped, but again, he expected it. Once Lucius had closed the door, Draco clenched his fists in the dark until he heard his father speak and Draco felt every nerve in his body flare painfully. As much as he expected it, there was no way to make a Cruciatus Curse not hurt.

Draco had felt the pain of the curse exactly three times in his life—representing the three times he'd gotten in trouble the worst. The first was when he tried to go into the yard of the Muggles that lived at the far edge of the Malfoy property, at age seven. He had cried worse than he ever had in his life when the curse made its way through his nerves. The second had been when he had stolen Lucius's broomstick and broken it. That time, he had been crying before his father even lifted his wand, and it hadn't felt any worse. He was nine.

And finally, the third, on his eleventh birthday no less, Draco was punished because the owl had come late, and Lucius had believed that Draco wasn't a wizard. This had been the most painful and lasted the longest, because Lucius just would not accept a Squib in the family. Narcissa had put an end to it just as Draco felt he was running out of tears, bursting into the dungeon and saying that the owl had finally arrived—that it had gotten confused thanks to the barriers set up around the manor. Draco had never felt so relieved in his life. He had run to his mother, soaking her robes with his tears as he held her.

So it was that in the summer of his fourth year, Draco was twitching on the floor of the dungeons as the Crutacius Curse washed over him for a fourth time. Draco knew the curse was illegal, and he knew it wasn't normal for parents to punish their children in such a way. He knew this because Lucius had strictly forbid him of speaking of it. He nearly made an Unbreakable Vow on it but Narcissa had forbidden the whole thing, to Draco's relief. Therefore, Draco knew that if she knew about what had happened, Hermione would begin to despise his father and, being the Gryffindor that she was, she would try to be a heroine and do something to attempt to stop the punishments, which would end up causing even more problems.

Besides, Draco was happy his father had only found out about the dance and not about the kiss. He was sure that his father would curse him more severely than the last time and that his mother wouldn't be able to save him in this case.

* * *

><p>Hermione was frustrated more than ever at Umbridge, but she was able to let out her frustration in the DA meetings. One reason for her frustration was that the Inquisitorial Squad basically diminished her regular patrols with Draco, and as she wasn't <em>in<em> the Squad, she couldn't talk to him there either. She knew it seemed petty compared to all other things that were wrong with Umbridge, but she couldn't get that look Draco had out of her mind. She needed to figure out a way to talk to him alone, but she was coming up blank every time she tried to come up with something. But soon an opportunity presented itself in the most bizarre way.

Late at night, Hermione, stressed for the OWLs and, angry at Umbridge as usual, Hermione decided that a bath in the prefect bathroom might relax her. She slid off her bed, grabbing her things and throwing a bathrobe over her night-clothes.

Hermione spoke the password and the door slid open, albeit a tad slower than usual, as if it were unsure. Hermione barely noticed and walked right in. From the first step, she realized that the bath was running. About a quarter of the way in Hermione realized that it shouldn't have been running. About halfway in, Hermione saw the pale figure that was in the bubbles of the bath. She emitted an odd squeak and spun around, cheeks flaming.

"Sorry, sorry!" Hermione cried. She heard a tiny splash and imagined the figure turning around.

"Merlin, Granger!" came the voice of Draco Malfoy. "You scared the wits out of me! How did you even get in here?"

"I-I'm not sure! The door doesn't normally open w-when someone's taking a bath," Hermione stammered.

Behind her, Draco sighed and said, "Well, wait a moment and I'll get a towel." Hermione could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he added, "Mind you, Granger, don't get any ideas of peeking."

"Oh, I won't-just hurry up," Hermione said impatiently. Finally, she heard the _woosh _of water as Draco pulled himself over the side of the bath and the slap of his wet feet hitting the floor as he got a towel.

"You can look now, Granger," Draco said. Hermione slowly pivoted and saw Draco with a towel around his waist and another in his hand as he dried his hair. Hermione tried not to stare at his well-muscled chest as she headed over to brush her hair—as she did before every bath so that her hair wasn't a complete nightmare to untangle afterwards.

"So what brings you here in this late hour?" Draco asked. Hermione looked up at the mirror to see that he was turning off the bathwater. He seemed rather confident in himself, not really minding that he was half-naked.

"I could ask you the same," Hermione said, watching Draco drain the water. Unfortunately for her, he looked up then, and caught her looking. Before she averted her eyes, Hermione spotted a dangerous grin cross his lips.

"Like what you see, Granger?" he asked.

"I see a scrawny pale boy with a terrible habit of insulting people, so...not particularly, no," Hermione retorted.

"Ah, but it so fun to insult you Granger, when you come up with those sorts of responses," Draco said with a smile. He was walking over to an empty stall now to change into his robes.

"I was actually alluding to that lovely song of yours about Ron—and while we're at it I might add that I was rather disappointed that I couldn't be there to help Harry and George after that game," Hermione called over to him. "Besides, if you want variety in your comebacks you may want to come up with more than 'Mudblood' as your daily insult."

"I'll keep that in mind, Granger," Draco said from the stall. "And for the record, I don't call you a Mudblood as much as you think."

"And does it matter _how_ many times you say it, Draco?" Hermione asked just as Draco left the stall and headed over to the sink next to her to comb his hair. Hermione remembered why she had so desperately sought a moment alone with Draco, so before he could make another quip she added, "But it's been a long time since you saying that has affected me. All that I'm worried about with you is what your father did to you after what happened last year."

Draco froze, the comb in the air, poised for another stroke. Slowly, he said, "It really doesn't matter, Granger."

"But it does!" Hermione protested. "I'm the reason you were punished in the first pl—"

"No you weren't. You weren't the one who decided to dance with me. My father didn't even know about…about the kiss." Draco had his hands on either side of the sink.

"I can tell this is bothering you, Draco. Just let me help—"

"My father used the Cruciatus."

"What?" Hermione hadn't heard him-couldn't have heard him-correctly. Draco was looking at the sink now and seemed like he was going to be sick.

"My father used the Cruciatus. On me," Draco said slowly. He glanced up and added, "Don't look at me like that."

"Draco, that curse is—"

"Illegal, I know," Draco finished for her. "But my father isn't exactly one to follow the rules."

"But Draco, that's—"

"Stop calling me that," Draco demanded, straightening again.

"Calling you what?"

"Calling me by my given name," Draco said. He let out a breath. "And don't pity me, Granger. I don't need your pity."

"How can I not?" Hermione said, realizing that tears were in her eyes. "Your own father…"

"I knew you'd say that!" Draco yelled, his face reddening in anger. "I knew you'd hate him! For your information, Granger, I believed every word my father said about Mudbloods and Muggles up until I met you! And even though I'm doubting him, I still love him—he's still my father—so don't start telling me that my father's evil, or that he's cruel to me, because he's not! He loves me, too!"

"And he shows it my torturing you for dancing with me?"Hermione yelled back, tears still brimming in her eyes.

Draco let out an enraged growl and grabbed her shoulders. "You. Are. A. Mudblood. How hard is it to understand that my family despises you and the fact that I associate with you?"

Hermione was scared now. She'd never seen Draco so worked up before and he was absolutely terrifying. The tears began to fall now and Hermione couldn't find a way to stop them. "But you don't despise me, or my blood, do you?"

Draco gave her a disgusted look, and shoved her roughly away. "I told you as much last year, Granger. Maybe your intelligence only extends to the schoolbooks."

Draco started to turn away, but Hermione hurried forward and grabbed him around the middle. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

"I told you not to call me that," Draco said, but there was no malice behind the words. Hermione felt him put his nose in her hair and if she wasn't mistaken, she could have even sworn that he'd kissed the top of her head.

* * *

><p>Why, why, <em>why<em> had Draco let Hermione convince him to tell her about his father? And why even tell her that it hadn't been the first time? Wasn't once enough? He knew it would get out of hand—he _knew_ how she would react. Just—why?

He knew the answer, of course. Hearing his given name—spoken so softly—on her lips, the same lips that he knew for a fact were so soft and gentle, that had been why. It was his downfall, he knew, and he needed to get her to stop saying that. Better yet, he needed to stop talking to her. Yes, that would be wonderful.

And with all the Umbridge events, Draco got his wish. He barely ever saw Hermione, and when he did, she wasn't within speaking distance. He even had to focus on his ever-approaching OWLs and the homework teachers piled on due to the exams. It wasn't until almost the end of exams that Draco saw Hermione and that had ended with bats coming out of his nose and everyone escaping to the Ministry.

After the Ministry events, however, Draco knew everything was lost for his family. His father had not only failed to defeat Potter, but had let the prophecy get destroyed. Lucius had already been edging away from the Dark Lord's favor because of disloyalty, but now—now they were well past that and almost to the point of danger of death.

He had begun to hate Potter with a burning passion, as he kept ruining everything with his family. He even hated all of Potters friends, with the always-exception, Hermione. He was only mildly angry at her. But this didn't stop him from heading straight to the train compartment Harry was in. Unfortunately for Draco, this hatred made him slow and dull-witted and for a second year in a row, Draco found himself on the train floor with his face terribly distorted by multiple jinxes. On the brighter side, however, they had all worn off by the time Draco had stepped off the train.

Looking across the platform, Draco spotted Hermione's bushy hair and knew that this time things really were going to change. Even if he managed to talk to her, Draco would probably be burdened by other things—things such as a Death Eater ceremony his father had written to him about.

With morbid thoughts like these clouding his head, and hurting his heart, Draco turned to face his pair of blonde headed parents, greeting his as coldly and as formally as usual. Draco took his father's arm and glanced again at the back of Hermione's head before they all Apparated away.


	7. Potions and Problems: Part 1

"Aunt Bella, are you _positive_ that I need to learn Occlumency this year?" Draco asked. He was nervous, but managed to hide this well enough. "After all, Dumbledore wouldn't be trying to read my mind."

It had been a month since school had ended and since then, Draco had acquired a Dark Mark and the task of killing his headmaster. Draco had been terrified when Voldemort had told him that. _Kill_ Albus Dumbledore? The one who had beaten back Voldemort himself just the year before? Draco hadn't even killed anyone before—how was he supposed to kill Dumbledore? Draco had relaxed a small bit when he'd heard that his mother had gotten Snape to agree to an Unbreakable Vow, but if he couldn't complete his first task, how could he expect to become a favored Death Eater? And now he was to learn Occlumency, with his aunt Bellatrix.

Bellatrix had suggested it to Draco's mother, who readily agreed. He would learn Occlumency before he went back to Hogwarts, so Draco was currently stuck in his Aunt's living room, hiding his nerves. Draco didn't really mind until his aunt revealed to him that in the process, she would see glimpses of thoughts and memories. Of course, the first memory that came to Draco's mind was the kiss at the Yule Ball. That was quickly followed by the kiss on the day of Dumbledore's speech. The good-bye kiss. And for the life of him, Draco couldn't find a way to shove them to the back of his mind.

"The Muggle-lover won't be the only one attempting to read your mind Draco, and there are things you will know that others shouldn't be privy to," Bellatrix replied. Then she smiled. "Why do you ask, Draco? Have something in your head you want kept secret?"

Draco straightened and set his jaw. "Of course not. Now can we get this over with?"

"As you wish," Bellatrix said, sneering as if she would enjoy finding out the reason for his reluctance. "_Legilimens!_"

Draco had begun to build up a resistance in his mind, knowing exactly what he didn't want his aunt to see. He built an imaginary wall around it while pushing out Bellatrix's invasion of his mind. She still saw many of his memories, but definitely not the one she wanted to see. Eventually, the living room came back to view and Draco found himself on all fours, breathing hard from the effort.

"Not bad," Bellatrix said, with an evil glint in her eye. "But you were focusing on protecting one thing, and you let all other memories be seen. You must completely clear your mind."

Draco stood up and took a deep breath, trying to do so. He had barely started when he heard, "_Legilimens!_"

And that was when Draco knew all was lost. First came the train ride, not too much of a surprise as Draco revealed that to his father years ago. Then came the conversation third year. Next was the dance. And suddenly, Hermione was running into him, crying, and Draco knew he had to put a stop to it. _Stop! Leave! Go away!_ he screamed in his mind, but Bellatrix wouldn't. She pushed harder, and then Draco was holding Hermione, and she was holding him. Her lips were so soft—

"STOP!" Draco screamed.

He was on the floor again, tears welling in his eyes. It was over. It was all over. His aunt would kill him, or banish him from the family. His parents would never look at him again. They would probably go after Hermione as well. And he was imagining that time when he was eleven—so much pain, so many tears. He barely even heard his aunt's raged screams until she kicked him over.

"You've disgraced the entire family! Your mother is going to hear about this right now! She'll probably disown you or kill you. Honestly, I'd prefer the latter."

"Of course you would, _dear Auntie Bella_," Draco growled under his breath. It wasn't unheard, however, and Draco received another kick in the ribs.

"How _dare_ you!" she shrieked. "How dare you even associate yourself with me? I am ashamed to be related to you! And to think, I helped your mother protect you for the task ahead! It's no wonder you're so unprepared for this!"

"What, because I kissed a Mudblood? Once?" Draco yelled back. "She has _nothing_ to do with this, Mudbloods hardly ever do! You can't take it all out on them!"

Bellatrix suddenly stopped in her ranting and raving. Her eyes widened and she bent over to look at Draco, who tried his best to keep looking at her as she said, "Are you defending Mudbloods, Draco?"

"Yes," Draco whispered, clenching his teeth together, as the pain in his ribs began to flare up. This was probably for the best, as Bellatrix proceeded to slap Draco so hard that his head snapped painfully to the side. Then, she roughly pulled him to his feet and Apparated to Malfoy Manor.

"What do you mean snogged—?"

"Defended—!"

Draco hardly listened to his mother's exclamations of disgust for the simple fact that he didn't care anymore. All was lost and he knew that he was most likely about to be tortured, then thrown from his house, and promptly disowned. And that was the best-case scenario. There was also the possibility that he wasn't about to live for more than—

"We don't say anything—nothing happened." Draco lifted his head at his mother's voice. He couldn't believe it.

"Mother—"

"Hush, Draco," she said without even turning. "Bella, the Dark Lord mustn't know about this, or we all could be killed. Draco was given this task for a reason, and we all know it wasn't because it would be good for any of us."

Bellatrix looked like she was conflicted, but eventually, she stepped back. "Draco, tell me that you don't really care for the Mudblood—at least not anymore."

Draco hesitated, but he knew what he had to say. "It would be ridiculous if I did, Auntie."

"Then it seems we have nothing to worry about," Draco's mother said. "Draco was just being a young boy at the time, testing his limits. However, Bella, I think this means that we must ensure that the Occlumency lessons continue, as the Dark lord may not be so forgiving."

"Very well Cissy," Bellatrix said. "But know I'm only doing this for you."

"Of course, Bella," Narcissa said with a nod, as Bellatrix led Draco out of the room.

When they were out of earshot, Bellatrix grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him close so she could hiss, "You're lucky I care about my sister's safety right now, but if I see one more image of that filthy Mudblood, you will feel a pain worse than death."

Draco nodded as they Apparated away.

* * *

><p>Hermione thought she'd imagined the voice as she walked into Madame Malkin's, but when she saw Harry and Ron bristle, she knew that Draco actually <em>was<em> in the same shop, and he was being his typical rude self.

And he saw her in the mirror.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in."

Hermione didn't much care for the words, as he'd said similar things throughout her years at Hogwarts. What worried her was that the way he was looking at her showed genuine anger and disgust. It was the look he gave Harry and Ron, but it was almost never directed at Hermione before. She wondered at what could have happened.

"And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!" Hermione heard Madam Malkin say.

"No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it…." Hermione whispered hastily, realizing that Ron and Harry had their wands drawn.

The rest of the encounter was just a typical Malfoy vs. Harry encounter, and Hermione thought it all a bit ridiculous because wasn't Draco just being himself? And Hermione felt terrible thinking this, thinking that Draco actually was a terrible, terrible boy, and she kept finding herself defending him.

And then, that theory was proven right when they all tailed him at Borgin and Burke's. Draco was definitely up to something, and Hermione _had_ to know what it was. Therefore, she walked into the store trying to figure it out, hoping against hope it wasn't too awful.

It annoyed her that she couldn't find what it was, and she really wanted to forget about the whole thing, so that she wouldn't have to confront her conflicted feelings. And therefore, the fact that Harry had to bring it up nearly every day was making her impatient.

After realizing that Draco hadn't been strutting around, flashing his Prefect's badge on the school train days later made more questions floated around in Hermione's head. This whole situation was bothering Hermione, but it seemed to bother Harry even more. If Hermione was trying to defend him, then Harry was doing the opposite. He was borderline obsessed with the whole thing, trying to prove that Draco was up to something terrible.

And to be honest, Hermione wasn't too sure she disagreed with Harry.

* * *

><p>Draco knew that he had begun to feel resentful to everyone. Spending weeks with his Aunt Bellatrix tended to do that to a person. When he'd seen Hermione in Madame Malkin's, Draco felt that she was ruining his entire attempts to get her as far away from him as possible. And then Potter listening to the whole conversation on the train—well, he hadn't really liked Potter in the first place.<p>

The entire school year seemed pointless to Draco. He barely focused in his classes. All he could think about was his task and the plan he had with the vanishing cabinets. What did NEWTs matter when it wasn't likely he would be in the school the next year anyway?

One class, however, Draco paid attention to—Potions, with the new teacher, Slughorn. It started when he'd walked by a cauldron with a potion in it that smelled like the heather in his home's large property, aged books and—something that definitely smelled satisfying though Draco couldn't quite define, but he definitely recognized.

Then, Hermione had explained exactly why he smelled what he did. "According to what attracts us", she had said. So why couldn't he figure out what that last scent was? And what had been Hermione's last scent, the one she was too embarrassed to say?

"No, I don't think so sir, I'm Muggle-born, you see," Draco heard Hermione say.

"It's like she proud of it," Draco said to Nott, amused not _at_ Hermione, but from Hermione herself, _being_ herself.

And then it all happened in quick succession. Slughorn was looking at Potter and Hermione as if they were _together_, and Weasly looked jealous of whatever Potter had said. And _then_ Slughorn gave Granger points—the first to a Gryffindor in a potions class in Draco's entire year. Added to thoughts of the potion plus the constant thoughts of his task, and Draco was outright overwhelmed.

And then: "It's liquid luck. It makes you lucky!"

Luck! Of all things, Draco needed this the most. How could one go wrong with luck? So Draco immediately turned forward and began diligently working on the potion that would reward him with this treasure. He knew he wasn't really _terrible_ at Potions—he was intelligent and made high marks—but he knew that Snape would have given him the Felix Felicis no matter what. Unfortunately, this new teacher wasn't about to be persuaded, and Draco began to realize his potion wouldn't be good enough to be the best, not with Hermione in the same classroom.

Draco looked over and saw, to his surprise, that Hermione actually seemed frustrated and—it couldn't be—her potion wasn't much better than Draco's. He smirked at this. Maybe he had a chance…

_POTTER?_

How could _Potter_, the potions dunce—the one who had to take _remedial_ _potions _have been the best in the entire class? And especially in a class with Hermione Granger? Surely Snape hadn't taught Harry _that_ well.

Draco slammed his book shut and stormed out of the classroom, fuming. As if Potter needed a lucky potion. He was Dumbledore's favorite, had won the Triwizard Tournament, and didn't people suspect him of being the "Chosen One"? Luck seemed to come freely for Harry Potter.

In his anger, it took until Draco was around the corner before he realized that he'd caught a whiff of that unidentifiable smell from the potion. And in the next second, Draco ran back in his memory to discover that it had been Potter, Weasley, and Granger that he had passed. Another second, and Draco realized that Hermione had been the one nearest him—that it was _her_ he had smelled in the love potion.

Well, wouldn't that please his family?

* * *

><p>Hermione nearly forgot about the love potion ordeal due to her anger at Harry for using the old textbook. She knew most of the problem was just her jealousy of Harry's win, but a lot of it was also because of her fear of whoever had written it. Who knew what kind of person they were—<em>especially<em> if they wrote in a school textbook?

And then, later that night, when Harry was in his meeting, Hermione roamed the school hallways with the pretense of prefect duties but really just so she could mull things over alone. She had found that she did this frequently, and it helped her sort through thoughts of the day.

This particular day, she was reminded of the Amoretia love potion. She knew what she had smelled—it had been too overpowering for her not to have known. Plus, the first sniff had brought Hermione back to the memory of last year, and the hug she and Draco had shared, because Hermione's third smell had been the combination of soaps specific to Draco, magnified that night by his recent bath.

Hermione knew that Amorteia, though it's effect was essentially to attract a person to the potion-user, could also confirm the existence of true—non-obsessive—love to another individual by the smell. If that was correct, then Hermione had to come to terms with the fact that she was in love with Draco Malfoy. Hermione _may_ have been fine with this, had she not been intelligent enough to know that love for Draco would get her nowhere. Not with his family.

The thing was that Hermione knew that a heart could change, over time. She also knew that Ron was developing major feelings for her and though unrequited at the present time, Hermione felt that Ron was a good person and—as Ginny and Harry were so obviously in love—her potential next love.

Hermione felt horrible, planning out her love for Ron by playing with his feelings, but she knew it was for the best. Besides, Ron was a really good person to fall in love with, so it wouldn't be hard…

But then Ron had to go and start snogging Lavender Brown.

She knew it was mostly Ginny's argument—told to her by Harry—that sparked it, but Hermione still thought she was partially to blame with her bashing of his Quidditch skills. But really, Ron was usually so pathetically _horrible_ at Quidditch matches—how could she not think that Harry had tried to help their friend?

But the downside to it all was that her plan was destroyed and she was back to a love for Draco that, even if requited, was useless. It made her angry, angrier than it should have. How _dare_ Ron choose a time like this to decide to be defiant!

After the incident with the birds, Hermione had stalked off down the halls in her usual habit, though it was the first time doing so with tears.

The roller-coaster of emotion had begun to calm down after a while, but it quickly started up again at the sight of Draco. To be honest, he looked horrible—his eyes were red from lack of sleep, his normally perfect hair seemed ruffled, and his robes looked like he'd been wearing them for a while. And Hermione couldn't put her finger on exactly what happened, but when their eyes met, either Draco suddenly seemed happier and brighter or Hermione's imagination only made it look that way to her.

"Granger," he whispered.

"Malfoy," Hermione replied with a slow nod.

Draco's lips curled slightly into the barest hint of a smile. "I see you've stopped using my given name. Good."

"That _could_ be due to the fact that Harry likes to bring up your name about every day," Hermione said, provoking Draco to raise one of his eyebrows.

"Potter talks about me?" he asked.

"He's suspicious of you, and based on your behavior this year, I'm not sure I shouldn't be either." Hermione crossed her arms.

"The middle of a hallway is hardly a good place to discuss things like these, Granger. Shall I direct us to a more private area, or would you wish to avoid me now?" Draco said, sounding overly formal—almost as if he were restraining himself from saying something else.

"Fine," Hermione agreed, and she knew she was taking a huge risk in adding with a smile, "As long as it's not another broom closet."

Of all the reactions Draco could have responded with, a wince was not one Hermione had expected. In fact, it hurt her that he did so. Did he think that the kiss was a mistake? Did he wish she had forgotten about it?

Still, Draco continued to lead her to another empty classroom, shutting the door before abruptly turning to face Hermione. The look on his face almost frightened her.

Draco wished he hadn't run into Hermione, wished he hadn't said anything, because now he was in an empty classroom without any knowledge of what he was about to say to her. All that came to mind was that terrible sense of fear when his aunt had found the memory of the two of them, and he knew by Hermione's expression that the horror was showing on his features. He quickly tried to rearrange his features into something that showed less emotion.

"Draco…what have you been up to this year?" Hermione eventually asked.

"I can't tell you that, Granger," Draco whispered.

"But you can, Draco," Hermione said, taking a step forward. "And maybe I can help."

"Even if I _could_ tell you, Granger, I wouldn't. You'd despise me even more than you already do," Draco said, looking away from her piercing gaze as he took a step back.

"I don't despise you, Draco, I—" she seemed to have gotten something stuck in her throat, rendering her unable to talk.

"You what? Were you trying to say that you think I'm an okay person? But you couldn't, could you? Not without—"

"I love you, Draco."

Draco felt like she'd slapped him again.

"I-you…say that again?" Draco spluttered. "I'm sure I must have misheard—"

"No, you heard right, Draco," Hermione said. "Amortiea proved it for me, above all else."

Draco let out a slow, sad breath. He had even more proof than Hermione. Yes, he had smelled her scent in the potion, but there was also another sign. When Draco had been in the Room of Requirement, he had stumbled upon a partially obscured mirror. He didn't know why someone would want to hide a mirror in such a place, so Draco had taken off the cover.

And he knew this was no ordinary mirror, because the first thing he realized was that his left arm was bare not only of a sleeve, but of a Dark Mark as well. And then he noticed that his right hand was holding onto none other than Hermione's. She was smiling, which made Draco's reflection mimic her. And the most important part: His parents behind him smiling as well, nodding their approval, also Dark-Mark-less.

Draco had stared at this image for hours before he realized that none of it was realistic, and that it was only distracting him from his duty. He hastily covered up the mirror, but the image stayed with him. Now, it came back full force as proof that he returned the love for Hermione. But even with her words, the image was just as unobtainable.

"You shouldn't have said that," he said in a low voice. He walked over to the other side of the room, getting as far away from that intoxicating scent as possible.

"And why's that?"

"Because I love you, too Hermione," Draco said simply. He saw her eyes widen and heard her intake of breath, feeling horrible for continuing, "But it doesn't matter. Besides my family's absolute hatred of you, which I might add has increased after a quick peek into my mind, you _will_ hate me by the end of this year. That, I can promise you."

"But _why_ will I hate you, Draco? And what do you mean their hatred of me has increased?" Hermione asked.

"Just trust me, Granger, in that it will be hard to love a person like me after what I'm going to do. And as for my family, well, let's just say that they read my mind and now they know full well what happened at the Yule Ball."

Hermione gasped. "No! Please don't tell me you were Cr—"

"No, though I'm sure Aunt Bellatrix _wanted_ to." Another gasp. "Anyway, it's only my father who does that and he's…not exactly home at the moment. My mother was the one who decided to keep everything quiet."

"So…what does all this mean?" Hermione said. Draco saw the hope in her eyes, and it crushed him to destroy it.

"It all means nothing really, just that we're back where we were before—maybe a bit farther away even. And next year, I probably won't even be here."

Draco saw in her eyes the desire to ask the question again, but she suppressed her urge. And after clenching her teeth together, she turned around, headed towards the door. Draco knew instantly that seeing the back of Hermione didn't feel good for his heart. Unless…

"Hermione, wait," he said, striding across the room until he could hold onto her arm and spin her around. He saw the tears that had begun to form in her eyes, and he immediately knew that he was doing the right thing.

Taking her other arm, Draco pulled Hermione close and then leaned down so that their lips connected. He kissed her as gently as he could, drawing it out so that he could savor every moment of it. Hermione didn't seem to mind, as she stepped forward and returned the kiss. It seemed like an eternity had passed by the time both of them had come up for air, both breathing heavily.

"What happened to us being back where we started?" Hermione breathed, resting her head on Draco's chest. He welcomed the feel of his arms around her once more.

"I-I was just trying to remind you that I loved you. No matter what happens, I'm not sure if that will change," Draco said. Hermione lifted her head and stepped back.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind, Draco," she said with a nod. This time, when she turned around, Draco was perfectly fine with letting her go.


	8. Potions and Problems: Part 2

Hermione spent her next weeks flickering between trying to win over Ron again and staying true to her love for Draco, the memory of their most recent kiss haunting her. Though it took a while, Slughorn's Christmas party settled it for her. If anything, going to the party with someone who annoyed Ron would pay him back for the frustration he caused her. Her conversation with Parvati one day, and Ron's amusing reaction to the whole thing, made Hermione happier than she should have been.

All that happiness faded at the party, however, when she learned what Cormac was really like. He was the most annoying person Hermione had ever met, and he seemed to have the intelligence of a mountain troll. Two things were on his mind—Quidditch and snogging.

Just as that thought began to creep into her mind, the one person whom Hermione wished she could be snogging was dragged into the room by Filch. She knew right away that something was wrong with Draco, but she wasn't sure if it wasn't because he'd gotten caught. Then again, it was Draco—had he really been trying to gate-crash? If not, what had he really been up to?

But Hermione couldn't wonder for long because soon, Snape was taking Draco away and Cormac's tall figure was making its way towards her. Hermione quickly left the party and went to bed. Soon, she remembered, she would be with her parents and then she'd be able to think rationally with no emotional influence. She looked forward to that day.

Unfortunately for Hermione, the day she got back, Harry immediately told her that Malfoy was up to something, and she wasn't entirely sure that Harry was wrong this time.

Along with Harry, Hermione had been watching Draco, though not nearly as much. She noticed that Draco wasn't really paying much attention in his classes. She also noticed that he looked abnormally tired, as if he hadn't gotten sleep in weeks. If she was being truthful, Draco looked horrible, with bruises under his eyes accented by his white skin that seemed to be even whiter than usual and his hair—no longer styled—looked like he was either constantly running his hands through it or he didn't even comb it anymore—probably both. Hermione knew she needed to talk to him again, and she knew she had to do it when Harry wasn't pouring over the Marauder's Map

Draco knew that time was running out. It was second semester, the Vanishing Cabinet wasn't finished, and Dumbledore was still alive. Draco knew his only option was to work on the cabinet day and night non-stop. He tried his best to get Crabbe and Goyle to protect him every time, but they were getting much too tired. Draco had begun making frequent trips to the Room of Requirement by himself, and it was one of these times that he ran into Hermione with her nose in—a piece of parchment.

"Granger! What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I could ask you the same, Draco. And I could also ask where you've been lately!" Hermione cried, stuffing the parchment in her pocket. "Harry would certainly like to know."

"What's Potter got to do with anything?" Draco yelled back.

"He suspects you of something Draco! And to be quite honest, I'm not so sure I'm not suspicious either," Hermione said. At her words, Draco led her off to a hidden alcove.

"And what, might I ask, does he suspect me of doing?" Draco hissed when they were well-hidden.

"He thinks you're a Death Eater!" Hermione yelled, and ignoring Draco's attempts to shush her, Hermione continued on, "And after mentioning Fenir Greyback as much as you do and Snape's Unbreakable Vow, how am I _not_ supposed to come to any conclusions like that?"

"How did you-?"

It doesn't matter. And along with all that, Draco, I can see that you look horrible—"

"Thanks—"

"It's true and you know it! You don't seem like you've slept in days, Draco, and I'm starting to worry about your health at this point."

"Forget about my health, Hermione," Draco said, no longer yelling. "I can take care of myself. Besides, by the end of the year, you'll wish I'm not so healthy."

"You seem so sure of that," Hermione said resignedly.

"That's because I know what a person like you will do after I finish my task," Draco said. "Just—stop caring. It will make things so much better."

Draco saw Hermione's eyes harden and she said, "Fine, then—don't tell me. Just wallow in your self-pity, leading a depressing, lonely path." She turned on her heels and marched away.

"Hermione, don't go," Draco called after her weakly. He knew there was no getting out of this. She was angry at him, and the only way she would feel better was if he told her about the plan, which he just couldn't do.

Draco's frustration mounted more than ever and he felt resulting tears well in his eyes. Needing a place to hide, he ran into a bathroom where he hurriedly washed his face. And knowing he was alone, Draco let himself cry, spouting out words of frustration and occasionally anger.

"This whole situation—so bloody stupid…can't believe I actually…and a dirty _Mudblood_ at that," Draco was unaware that he had a ghostly eavesdropper hiding in the S-bend. Outraged at the use of the word Mudblood, Moaning Myrtle flew out of the toilet, spewing water everywhere.

"How _dare_ you use that word!" she yelled, making Draco jump and turn around.

When he realized what this ghost had said, he started to laugh.

"Are you _mocking _me, boy? Is that it?" Myrtle said, and the toilets all made bubbling sound that threatened to spew over the rims. That was what clued Draco in to the identity of the ghost.

"No, no," Draco assured her immediately. "You don't understand—I…I…"

"You _what?_" Myrtle yelled. "You thought that you could just come in here, use that word and make fun of me? You stupid boy! You're all the same!"

And Myrtle began to cry. "Boys always make fun of me," she whined. "Or, they promise to come back and never do. I just want someone to make feel less lonely."

Draco hesitated, knowing he was taking a risk, but he plundered on ahead and said, "I'm just as lonely as you are. I have no one I can really talk to."

"You're mocking me again," Myrtle accused.

"No, I swear I'm not," Draco assured her. "To be honest, I'm in desperate need of someone to confide in. Can I trust you to keep secrets?"

"I've just told you I've no one to talk to," Myrtle snorted.

"All the same, if someone asks about me, you won't tell them my name, or any of the things I've told you? I won't come back if you do," Draco said.

"Oh I promise," Myrtle giggled. "You're much nicer than the last boy."

"Who's—it doesn't matter. Anyway, do you happen to be a Mud—Muggle-born?" Draco asked.

Myrtle's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Yes."

"Well, you see, I happen to be in love with someone…of your status." Myrtle seemed a bit disappointed in this. "But the problem is, my parents are-are Death Eaters…"

Draco launched into the whole story, including his task of having to kill Dumbledore. Myrtle listened better than anyone Draco had ever met, and it seemed a major relief to have someone to say all these things to. The best part of it was that Myrtle was very sympathetic to it all, and she had wanted to help, though Draco knew she could do nothing as a ghost. As afternoon turned into dusk, Draco knew he needed to get back before curfew, Prefect or not.

"It was lovely talking to you, Myrtle," he called over his shoulder as he left. "I'll come back soon."

And he did come back a couple more times since them. It was the last time however, that resulted in Draco's blood pouring all over the floor.

When Hermione heard the news, she nearly ran straight to the hospital room. The last words she had spoken to Draco had been out of spite, and she didn't want that to be the last thing he remembered her by. It was only after having rational thoughts occupy her mind again and hearing that Pansy Parkinson had beat her to it that Hermione realized that it wouldn't be a good idea to go—not yet.

She couldn't, however, stop herself from chiding Harry. She tried her hardest to make it seem like her usual lectures, but she barely hid her anger at Harry, and even Ginny, who she thought would be more understanding. But it hadn't passed Hermione's notice that Harry and Ginny seemed to be getting closer and closer, so she was a bit lenient toward the fiery red-head—but that didn't make her any less angry at the time.

Hermione decided to check on Malfoy—more of a peek really—on the pretense of asking Madame Pomfrey questions about Healers. When she walked into the room, however, Draco immediately groaned.

"Granger, you shouldn't be here," he sighed. "I'm fine, really."

"There you go—wallowing in your self-pity again!" Hermione burst out—not exactly the greeting she had planned, but a more genuine one in her opinion. "How hard is it to just confide in someone?"

"I _was_ confiding in someone when Potter attacked me!" Draco shouted back.

"According to Harry, _you_ attacked _him_!" Hermione countered. "And anyway, why would you confide in Myrtle, of all people?"

"Well I don't know, maybe it's the fact that she's a ghost who's not about to go tell the whole school of the woes of Draco Malfoy, and the fact that she doesn't know me as a Mudblood hater," Draco said.

"What does that m—" But Hermione was interrupted by a flustered Poppy Pomfrey.

"This patient needs rest, Miss Granger, and arguing will not achieve that!" she exclaimed.

"Actually, Madame Pomfrey, I came to ask you some questions on Healers," Hermione said, sending a meaningful glare at Draco. "Your patient is just a presumptuous prat."

Draco rolled his eyes, and Hermione knew he wasn't fooled, but Madame Pomfrey seemed to be. She led Hermione off to her office and answered Hermione's questions quite readily.

When Hermione was done, she shot Draco an angry glare and swept out the room as if half the reason for her visit _hadn't _been Draco. In any event, he certainly seemed perfectly well off, or at least well enough to hold an argument with her.

And yet he still managed to pull at her heartstrings. Was Moaning Myrtle the only person Draco could talk to? Was he that lonely? And yet he was still insisted on pushing her away.

Hermione wiped a tear from her eye as she returned to the common room.

"_Expelliarmus!" _ Draco disarmed Dumbledore without even looking at the man, but once he saw him—once he saw the man he was supposed to kill—he knew he wouldn't do it. He couldn't do it. Making it especially hard was Dumbledore's words—so calming, and so nonchalant. It made Draco relax. Until…

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" Draco asked immediately. It was as if Dumbledore had read his mind—had he? Draco quickly used Occlumency and then added, "You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done!"

And then began the half-argument between them, where Draco explained everything—every plan he had, even the ones he stole from Hermione. Thoughts of her, and how much he'd been pushing her away all year, they succeeded in making him angrier—but not nearly angry enough to kill Dumbledore.

Suddenly an opening came "…I can help you, Draco."

Malfoy listened to Dumbledore's plans, which seemed so realistic, so safe. Draco wanted to accept so badly. Just when he came to a decision, just when he was lowering his wand, Death Eaters burst in. Draco could tell Greyback had entered the room almost by smell, and he nearly panicked. What was he doing here? There was a reason Draco hadn't wanted him to be at the school. Draco's hands shook more than ever.

And then he was shoved down by Snape. Before Draco could right himself, he heard, _"Avada Kedavra!"_ and the flash of green light told him it was all over.

Hermione was up in the hospital wing on McGonagall's orders, and her mind was becoming something of a jumbled mess. She was disoriented, exhausted, and horrified. The latter was a result of Bill's injuries and the thoughts of who else could have been hurt.

Hermione shoved this mess to the back of her mind, however, when she heard Ginny:

" Ron—Dumbledore's dead!"

A whole new mess of questions was created with this—how? Was it even possible? Who did it? Hermione focused as much as she could—through the questions and sting of tears—on what Harry was saying, but he said something that distracted her further.

"—and then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him—"

Hermione put her hands to her mouth. She knew Draco was involved, but not _this_ involved. Was he hurt? Dumbledore wouldn't hurt him, but what about Snape—he was the one that killed Dumbledore, who knew what else he would do? And what was Draco doing there anyway?

Tears formed slowly as Hermione listened to what everyone was saying. She was thinking back to her own experience that night, believing that Snape was good, that Flitwick collapsed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She was the reason Snape hadn't been stopped earlier, she was the reason Dumbledore was dead, whatever Lupin said.

Of course Hermione went over that night in her head multiple times throughout the last few weeks, and in the beginning, she thought back to how Draco said she would hate him by the end of the year. She agreed with this. Draco was helping the Death Eaters just as Harry suspected—just as she accused him of being—and he hadn't told her. He had helped Snape kill Dumbledore. How could she not hate him?

But after Harry told her and Ron about more about what happened up in the Astronomy Tower, Hermione changed her mind. Draco was doing it for his family, and he almost gave in—he almost changed sides. Now, all Hermione could do was pity Draco, pity the boy forced into a world he wanted no part of. Hermione had gotten into the habit of telling an imaginary Draco that he had been wrong—that not only did she not hate him, but she felt that she loved him more. He was just trying to protect his family, and would have, if Snape hadn't interrupted the whole thing.

The thing that comforted Hermione, if only a tiny bit, was knowing that Draco was another exception—the one Death Eater that wasn't completely evil.


	9. The Second Wizarding War: Part 1

**A/N: **Hey there, readers! I apologize for the really slow update-there's a lot to take into account with Deathly Hallows.

Just so you know, there will be two parts with Deathly Hallows, plus an epilogue. The first part of Deathly Hallows (this one, actually!) will be like usual, following the books with underlying Dramione scenes. The second part will go up to and past the end of Deathly Hallows, so you get to see what happened after they left the headmaster's office. The epilogue is going to be completely different from the book, and I'll explain more when I post it. So that's it-a heads-up for what you'll see in the last of the updates.

As always, I love all my readers, and I especially love my reviewers. Here's a hug for every single one of you: *hug*.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Draco's hands trembled under the table, not even focusing on anything anyone was saying. He just focused on protecting his mind from Voldemort. He couldn't help but stare at the woman floating above them, knowing that she wouldn't live past this meeting, whatever she had done.<p>

Draco nearly jumped when he heard his father's name, but stopped himself just in time. And then, when Lucius had given up the wand—the wand that would have been Draco's in the future—Draco knew that his family status was drastically dropping and soon they would be no more than mere Snatchers. The only thing that kept them at a higher status was the Mark on their forearms.

Draco sat through the rest of the meeting on edge, barely answering Voldemort's questions, and hoping with all his heart for it to end. Therefore, when Draco saw the flash of green light pass him, he jumped so much so that he fell out of his chair in shock. He didn't really feel like getting up, either, when he heard Nagini slithering on the table above him...

Weeks later, Draco was feeling a bit better. There hadn't been a Death Eater meeting in a while, so he hadn't had to see Voldemort. Unfortunately, Voldemort soon returned, ruining Draco's recovery, with a terrified Rowle. Draco tried again to ignore the Dark Lord, but that failed when Voldemort asked specifically for him.

Draco stepped in front of Voldemort and stammered, "Y-yes, my-my lord?"

"I would like you to…_punish_ Mr. Rowle for not completing a task I assigned to him. You would know what that is like, wouldn't you, Draco?"

Draco was terrified now, but he simply nodded.

"Now, I believe you know the Cruciatus Curse, Draco?" Voldemort asked.

Draco gulped and nodded again.

"Good. Use it on our friend here."

Draco heard Rowle whimper, but ignored it and pulled out his wand. When the wand pointed at Rowle, Draco hesitated.

"Do you wish to have the same fate, Draco?" Voldemort hissed behind Draco.

Taking a deep breath, Draco finally said the curse and watched as the man fell to the floor in agony, bloodcurdling screams reverberating off the walls of the manor. Draco continued the curse until Voldemort stopped him. He dropped his wand to his side, standing completely rigid.

"More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini?..." Draco heard the words but could only look into the fire until Voldemort said his name "…Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure…Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!"

Draco again sent the spell in Rowle's direction, but this time he was interrupted when Voldemort used the Body Bind Curse on Rowle. Draco stopped immediately, confused until Voldemort began speaking in Parseltongue.

The green viper slid off Voldemort's shoulders and it was then that Draco realized Nagini was about to eat Rowle alive. Appalled, Draco turned away, squeezing his eyes shut, ignoring Voldemort's mocking laughter.

It was a horrible event that Draco suffered through, and he knew that there could only be worse things to come.

* * *

><p>When Ron left Hermione and Harry, it hit Hermione hard—in a way that she couldn't explain. She felt as if a great hole had been ripped out of her chest and she <em>needed<em> to be with Ron again. The only thing that made her feel better was to cry, which all logic told her wasn't normal.

Why did she have to realize that she finally loved Ron only when he was gone?

And why, when she needed to focus the most, were her only thoughts about him?

Hermione knew this logic and grief wasn't normal, but any time she thought things like that, she had a block, like an impregnable wall on that part of her mind. Hermione also tended to notice that when she switched her thoughts to Draco, and started to feel guilty for loving Ron, her thoughts took a U-turn and ran back to Ron. The answer to this problem was so close in her mind, but she just couldn't grasp it for long enough, not unless she found a way to break through that wall.

And then...Ron came back—and all she coul think to do was bury her insane feelings with the frustration of not being able to think clearly. And one thought that came to mind was that she felt guilty for not spraying on the perfume he gave her. She used to wear it every day until she thought he had no chance of coming back…

Later, Harry accidentally said Voldemort's name and the next thing they knew, they were being whisked away by Snatchers to no other place but Malfoy Manor. Despite the terror involved in the situation, when she heard Greyback mention Malfoy, Hermione's only thoughts were: _Not there, anywhere but there._

And then, once they had arrived, Narcissa said, "My son, Draco, is home for the Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

_No, no, no, no, _NO! Hermione didn't want to see him, especially not with all these Death Eaters around. Disastrous results came out of Draco being surrounded by Death Eaters. Before she knew it, Hermione had spotted Draco's tall, pale figure, and her heart went mad.

At first glance, Hermione's pulse raced faster than she imagined it ever could. And then that mysterious block slowed it, and Hermione wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or not. As he came closer, Hermione took in his scent, a scent familiar not only to memories she had of Draco, but something else—something she smelled in class…but there was that block again. Lucky for her, Draco hadn't seen her yet, too focused on the others, as he was asked to identify them.

They nearly forgot about her, but Greyback brought up the thing she had prepared for: "What about the Mudblood then?"

Draco turned around and Hermione saw his eyes flash. A tear surprised Hermione and rolled down her cheek as she mouthed Draco's name. A glimmer of responding tears also surprised Hermione, but they quickly disappeared.

"I…maybe…yeah," he said slowly, never taking his eyes off her.

* * *

><p><em>Why is Hermione here? How could she get caught? Wasn't she supposed to be smarter than that?<em>

So many questions ran through Draco's head the second he saw her, all branching off of his fear—_for_ her and _of_ her. She shouldn't have gotten caught—that wasn't supposed to be possible. And Bellatrix—though she hadn't mentioned it since—still remembered that memory, Draco knew. He shouldn't be around Hermione, not with Bellatrix in the same room.

"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback," Draco heard his mother say.

"Wait. All except…except for the Mudblood."

Draco snapped his head in his aunt's direction, eyes blazing. She was doing this on purpose—to hurt him _and _to satisfy her hatred of Mudbloods.

"No! You can have me, keep me!" Never had Draco agreed with Weasley more. But he could say nothing of the sort with his aunt around. Not even when Bellatrix pulled out the knife.

Before the others were taken downstairs, Bellatrix advanced toward Hermione, her dagger glinting. Draco turned away, tears stinging at his eyes, angry that he could do no more than look the other way. He heard her scream, and felt it pierce his heart. He clenched his fists, as he saw the flash of light that meant his aunt had used the Cruciatus spell. But what he couldn't hear was the questioning Bellatrix was supposed to be giving.

At last, another heart-wrenching scream rang out and Draco whipped around.

"STOP!" he shouted. Bellatrix dropped her wand to her side, releasing the spell. The quiet that ensued was only broken by the yells of the prisoners below them.

"_What _did you say, Draco?" Bellatrix asked.

"I said stop—no, Mother!" Narcissa had grabbed Draco's wrist in an attempt to quiet him, but Draco was determined, and simply ripped free. Avoiding a glance at Hermione on the ground, he continued, "This is absolutely ridiculous! Wasn't the whole point of it to find out about your precious sword? Well, ask about it! You're not going to find out anything from her screams. Just _stop_!"

A very dangerous smile came over Bellatrix's lips at that moment. "And here I thought poor Draco had gotten over his little crush. How sweet." She turned around and twirled her dagger, sinking back to the floor where Hermione lay sobbing.

"Well, then, pretty Mudblood—you heard your protector. _Where is my sword?"_ Bellatrix screamed the last part while dragging the knife along Hermione's forearm. Hermione screamed again, but merely shook her head.

"Hermione," Draco whispered. "Don't do this."

"_Draco_," Lucius hissed, suddenly aware of what exactly was going on. "How dare you—a Mudblood!"

"Lucius, now is not the time," Narcissa pleaded. Draco looked to her in gratitude only to hear her add, "Draco, forget the Mudblood—our lives are at stake at the moment and we need full cooperation with your aunt as well as the Dark Lord. Do you understand?"

Draco looked at Hermione, still screaming from Bellatrix's torture, swallowed hard, and nodded, blinking back more tears.

"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get the sword? _Where?_"

The questioning went on further, which, as painful as it still was, gave Draco some hope that Hermione wouldn't be dead by the end of the night. Draco's parents were whispering furiously, and didn't notice when Draco slipped into full sobbing. He could do nothing and it was all because of Voldemort. Any hints that Draco may have had of resentment of Voldemort were out into complete light. A burning, passionate hatred of Voldemort coursed through Draco. Of course, there was nothing he could do about it as of yet, but he knew that he would find a way to be free of it. Somehow.

* * *

><p>Hermione had never felt so much pain. Between the Cruciatus and the point of the dagger, Hermione felt like she was practically lying in a fire. When she heard Draco's voice, her first thought was of comfort—that he was there, and she would be free of the pain soon. And then she realized that he had so far done little to relieve the pain. However, one look in his eyes told Hermione that he was being tortured almost as much as she was.<p>

Then Hermione heard Draco's voice again—quieter than it had been the last time. "Hasn't she already answered your question, Bellatrix?"

"_Draco!_" Narcissa said, and Draco clenched his jaw. But the damage had been done. Bellatrix raised her wand and put all her energy onto the next spell. Hermione had never felt so much pain before.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! _CRUCIO!_"

And somehow it was even worse. Hermione heard distant screams and it took a while for her to realize that they were hers, as they were distorted with so much pain.

And then the spell was over, and Bellatrix was speaking but Hermione barely heard her, sobbing as her nerves felt free again. She didn't ever want to feel like that again, she knew she had to lie, come up with something Bellatrix would believe. "…It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"

"A copy? Oh, a likely story!" Hermione cowered as Bellatrix began to raise her wand again, but Lucius, of all people stopped her.

Hermione didn't care what Lucius was saying, didn't care that Draco was leaving the room again. All she cared was that she was in no more pain. She let herself relax on the floor, tears of joy streaming from her eyes.

But then it was back, and screams were again being ripped from Hermione's throat. She heard Draco yelling something, making out only a few words. "What's the point now!—just established—from the goblin—_stop_!"

And then it did stop. Bellatrix was now questioning Griphook. But this time Hermione didn't allow herself to relax, especially not when she heard Bellatrix say that she was to be disposed of. No, because that brought with it a battle between her friends and the Malfoys. Hermione knew she had to move, or be faced with a stray spell. She struggled to sit up, only to be pulled up by Draco, who—was she seeing right?—seemed to have aimed a curse at Greyback's curse. She suddenly knew what he was doing—just like in fourth year when Harry and Draco's spells had collided, Draco was again deflecting a spell—this time to be sure it wouldn't hit its target.

"Hermione," he whispered frantically. "I need you to remember that I still love you. It may not seem like it but I do, okay?" Draco again deflected a spell "I'm only trying to protect my family. Above all else about me, remember-"

But Hermione never heard the last of Draco's words, bcasue a spell hit her and she fainted, seeing nothing but black.

* * *

><p>"STOP OR SHE DIES!"<p>

Bellatrix had managed to hit a spell at Hermione, and a surprised Draco could do nothing as Bellatrix took hold of her. Draco willed Potter and Weasley to follow Bellatrix's orders at that point, knowing that since she had her information she would go for the kill this time. Happy to pick up their wands, as that meant a longer life for Hermione, Draco was caught off guard by the falling chandelier, and didn't notice when Potter took the wands from him. When he opened his eyes again, the battle was over and Hermione-along with her friends-was gone.

And the next thing he knew, Bellatrix was pleading to Voldemort, who was angrier than Draco had ever seen. It was terrifying, but Draco only knew that the pure hatred still existed, and it was all he could do not to attack The Dark Lord just then. Draco left the room as quietly as possible, if only to make sure he didn't do something stupid out of anger.

He walked upstairs and headed to the balcony above the front gates. Placing his hands on the stone, Draco forced himself to take deep breaths. He was so conflicted now. Should he risk his—and possibly his parents'—life for Hermione? Would it be worth it? And what if Harry Potter was killed at some point? Then Draco and Hermione would die within the first years of Voldemort's reign.

Draco sighed and looked down. It was useless. Hermione could never be his, not now. To be completely honest, Draco believed Voldemort had more of a chance of destroying Harry than the other way around. And that could only mean that Hermione, as Potter's friend as well as a Mudblood, wouldn't live much longer after that. Best to just be completely on the Dark Lord's side, where he would live. A broken heart would heal after a while.

A wet drop on the balcony edge was Draco's first hint that he was crying. And why not? Just because it would heal later didn't mean that his heart wasn't in pain at the moment. That was why Draco was still crying as his father walked onto the balcony, Voldemort having left long ago.

"If the Dark Lord wasn't looking for ways to tear this family down, I might think of punishing you," Lucius said.

"Go ahead," Draco said through gritted teeth. "You've managed to hide it before."

"I need you on my side, Draco."

"Are you sure you want a Muggle-lover on your side?" Draco asked. He still hadn't turned to look at his father yet, so he didn't see Lucius's eyebrows rise.

"Oh, is that what you are now?" Lucius said as calmly as possible.

"It's what you see me as, isn't it?"

"You'll have to forget her, Draco," Lucius said, ignoring Draco's response.

"I love her, father," Draco admitted, his shoulders drooping.

"That's irrelevant," Lucius said bluntly. Draco finally turned around, his eyes still wet, but angry now.

"When is that ever irrelevant?" he demanded.

"You and I both know that Potter has no power to destroy the Dark Lord. The Mudblood will be destroyed along with the rest of Potter's followers. If you show any remorse around the Dark Lord, the rest of your life will be torture. It is best to forget her to protect yourself."

"That's a coward's choice!" Draco shouted.

"That's how you survive under the Dark Lord's rule," Lucius said calmly.

"And what if Potter does it—defeats the Dark Lord?" Draco asked. "Where will we be?"

"Their side is forgiving. Better to be on the Dark Lord's side, where either option will save us," Lucius said simply.

Draco gritted his teeth, but, having lived his entire life with a coward's ideals, this option was the only one that made sense. Besides, it would save him heartbreak if Hermione _was_ destroyed by Voldemort. And it most definitely hadn't escaped his notice that Weasley was much more passionate towards Hermione. She would have such an easier life with him, much as it hurt Draco.

So Draco gave in. Hanging his head, he walked away from the balcony, leaving an accomplished Lucius to smile after his son.


	10. The Second Wizarding War: Part 2

Hermione had completely forgotten about any romantic relationships since their departure of Bill and Fleur's cottage. There were too many things to think about, and it was utterly ridiculous during such events as a battle.

And yet when Hermione had the _simple_ thought that she could have kissed Ron for thinking of house elves for _once_, she found her lips suddenly on his. And she wasn't completely sure she didn't like it.

In fact, it almost felt like something she'd been hoping for desperately had come true. And much as she felt like fighting it, liking the feel of Ron's lips—less skilled and less delicate than Draco's—was fighting harder. By the time they parted, Hermione hadn't a bit of guilt about the whole thing.

Hermione, being the logical person she was, however, knew that she had to keep going, and not linger on her feelings. She ran through the Room of Requirement, searching just as hard as she knew Harry was for the Horcrux.

When she heard Malfoy's voice, she thought it was a figment of her imagination, reminding her of the other boy she thought she loved. But when she began to make out words, Hermione remembered that Draco had to be involved in the battle. How could she not have realized that before?

Still, it _was_ a battle. She ignored the conflict beginning in her mind and attacked without hesitation. And after they all—minus Crabbe—had gotten out, Hermione forgot about Malfoy, because, well, there was a Dark Lord to kill.

* * *

><p>Draco had, of course, seen Voldemort die. He heard when Harry said that he—Draco Malfoy—had been the true master of the Elder wand. <em>He<em> was the flaw in Voldemort's plan. Draco was partially the reason Voldemort had died. Of course this made him pleased.

Still, it didn't make things any less strange to be sitting in a place where people who were, moments before, his enemies. He kept glancing at Hermione, but she never looked at him. She was constantly talking to Weasley, and it hurt Draco more than he would let himself show.

Lucius noticed Draco's line of sight and whispered, "Did I not tell you it was irrelevant?"

Draco didn't respond, but simply watched Wesley and Granger leave. As safe and accomplished as he was, Draco couldn't help but feel like he'd just lost a part of his soul.

* * *

><p>On their way back down from the Headmaster's office with Harry, Hermione asked, "So now that it's all over—what'll we do?"<p>

Harry gave her a tight smile, "That's a good question. I've spent my whole life fighting Voldemort. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Well for one, Harry and I could truly attempt to pass our exams," Ron put in.

"Ronald, you had no excuse not to pass your exams," Hermione chided.

"True…but we've already been through our seventh year, so I'd say we'll do alright now," Ron amended.

"Well, you two can debate what you're going to do, but as for me," Harry said with a sigh, "I've done my worrying. If you don't mind, I think I may just sleep. At least there, I won't have to answer a dozen questions."

So Harry left in the direction of the dormitories, leaving Ron and Hermione alone.

"So, Hermione…there's something I've been waiting to tell you," Ron said after a moment.

"Yes?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"You know how we kissed during the battle?"

"Of course, Ronald," Hermione said with a fond smile, remembering those lips again.

"Well, do you remember that book Fred and George got me this summer?"

"Yes," Hermione said, becoming suspicious.

"And, um, were you still wearing that perfume I gave you during the summer?"

"Get to the point, Ronald," Hermione said, exasperated.

"Well, you might not want to wear that perfume anymore." Ron seemed a little squeamish now.

"And why's that?"

"Erm, well…the kiss may have been a bit _encouraged_…by a special…potion," Ron stammered.

Hermione bristled. "What potion would that be, exactly?"

"Well, Fred and George had just gotten a special shipment because their love potions were becoming so popular—"

"_You put a love potion in my perfume?"_ Hermione wasn't sure herself whether she was screaming or just shouting. In any event, she caused Ron to back away in fear. "Ronald Weasley do you have _any_ idea how dangerous that could have been with a war situation?"

"Not quite—"

Hermione gasped as a sudden thought struck her. "Draco!"

"Draco?" Ron called after her, as if he'd misheard.

But Hermione ignored him. She raced back to the Great Hall, seeking the only person she had every truly loved in her life.

* * *

><p>"Come, Draco, we aren't wanted in this place." Lucius said finally, and Draco nodded, standing up. He and his mother followed his father to the Entrance Hall. Lucius had just put his hand on the doors when a shout rang out from behind them.<p>

"Draco, wait!"

Draco, who had recognized the voice instantly, turned just as Hermione ran into him. Without hesitating, she grabbed him by his robes, and shoved him down until his lips collided with hers. A dozen things ran through Draco's mind, but he shoved them away and simply put his arms around Hermione, taking in the kiss for all it was worth. Merlin, had he craved a moment like this.

The moment was ruined, however, by a spell from Lucius. It flung both of them to opposite sides of the hallway, effectively waking Draco back up. He picked himself off the ground, and turned angrily to his equally irritated father.

"Draco, you are coming with us," Lucius hissed.

"I'm not sure which you're more angry about, father," Draco said, bravery appearing in response to Hermione's kiss. "Is it the fact that I was kissing Hermione in front of you, or the fact that she's a Mudblood?"

"We will discuss it at home, Draco," Lucius said pointedly.

"Well, you see, father, I don't really think I want to go home now," Draco said, slowly stepping towards Hermione.

"You _will_ go home, Draco, and you _will_ obey me," Lucius said, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from doing something he knew he would regret.

"Mother, would you kindly remind father of my age?" Draco requested casually, beside the silent Hermione now. "I _do_ believe he's forgotten the laws concerning overage wizards."

Narcissa, to everyone's surprise, _did_ speak to Lucius, though she didn't completely do as Draco had requested. Instead, she said, "Lucius, remember when we had the same situation?"

Here, Draco and Hermione exchanged very confused glances. Two purebloods with the same types of families were in the same situation as a pureblood and a Muggle-born? The idea was absurd. Then again, Draco never asked his parents how and why they had gotten married. He mostly assumed they were forced to marry each other to keep the bloodlines intact.

Lucius, much to his son's surprise, immediately calmed down—something Draco would have never predicted. Now he really wanted to hear the story, but now wasn't the time to push it. Instead, he watched his father take a deep breath and say, "Your mother and I are leaving. You may stay here, and when you decide to come home, we will discuss the matter further. Am I understood?"

"Yes, father," Draco said with a curt nod, barely containing his emotions as he watched his father and mother turn and leave.

* * *

><p>When the doors closed behind them, Draco's shoulders tensed up, and he began muttering under his breath, but all Hermione caught was, "…not irrelevant <em>now<em>…"

"Draco," Hermione whispered, gently touching his arm. Draco immediately relaxed and slowly turned around.

His face was expressionless, as he said, "Well, Granger, we seem to find ourselves alone, with the _mild_ approval of my parents. Whatever shall we do?"

"Firstly," Hermione said with a small grin, "You can stop calling me Granger. And secondly…"

Hermione took Draco's hands in hers, and used them as her supports as she rose on her toes to kiss him once more. For once, there were no irate parents and no guilty consciences to interrupt the pure bliss they were feeling. They could finally let themselves pour out their bottled emotions to each other. By the time they were forced to come up for air—Hermione angry at her lungs for it—her arms had wound themselves around the back of Draco's neck, her fingers twined in his hair, and Draco's hands were placed gently but firmly on her arching back, locking her body close to his.

Hermione's eyes slowly opened and locked onto Draco's. She grinned, and before she could stop herself, she started laughing quietly. Draco followed suit, so that both were laughing for no immediate reason. Hermione's mind—ever logical—told her that it was because the idea of them kissing each other in that way had always seemed insane, no matter what they felt. To have it actually happen was ridiculous—almost a miracle.

Draco, mid-laugh, asked, "So, why now?"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked.

"I just wanted to know why you chose the moment I was about to leave to…declare your intentions," Draco clarified with a grin.

Hermione probably could have come up with a witty remark in response, but anger at Ron came back to her, and she took a step away from Draco, who dropped his hands at his sides.

"Did I say something wrong?" Draco asked.

"No, it's just—I'm furious at Ron," Hermione said

Draco suddenly got a hurt look. Slowly and pathetically, he said, "So this was just to get back at him?"

"No, no, of course not," Hermione said quickly, taking Draco's hands again, attempting to explain with her eyes. "The moronic git thought a love potion was the best way to win over a girl's affections—in the middle of a war."

"He thought _what_?" Draco growled. He dropped Hermione's hands, his own hands forming into fists, his jaw tightening.

Hermione immediately jumped to diffuse Draco's anger. She grabbed his wrist, put his fist to her lips, kissed it, and said, "Clam down. We both know Ron's not the smartest person in the world."

"Of course," Draco said, his fist relaxing as he traced her lips with his thumb, "because that's you."

Draco's fingers, completely out of the fist now, slid to Hermione's cheek. Her hand covered his, and followed the motion of Draco's thumb as it stroked her cheek. Hermione wasn't completely sure whether she was going to continue the conversation or just stand like that, staring into Draco's eyes. She would never know, because Harry's voice broke through the trance both of them had gotten into.

"Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione jumped like she'd been burned, and a glance at Draco, who was blinking as if he'd just woken up, told her that he was equally surprised.

"Harry, I-I thought you were going to the dor—"

"I couldn't sleep," Harry explained shortly.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Draco demanded. Hermione put her hand on his arm, which Harry most definitely noticed.

"Me? And what about the way _you've_ talked to her all these years?" Harry said. "How long has this been going on, anyway?"

"Er…well…" Hermione wasn't completely sure how long it _had_ been going on. "The Yule Ball?"

"_Fourth year_?" Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, Harry, it's all very complicated," Hermione said glancing at Draco. Harry held up a hand before she could continue.

"I'll ask you about it later," he said. "See you in the common room. Oh, and good luck telling Ron." With that, Harry walked away, his eyes lingering suspiciously to Draco.

"I want to be there when you tell Weasly," Draco said immediately after Harry left.

"No," Hermione said simply.

"And why not?" Draco demanded.

"That would only end in disaster," Hermione sighed. "You would say something to provoke Ron, and then he'd start a fight. The castle doesn't need any more destruction. I'll just tell him, and he'll have to accept it."

"And why do you say that?" Draco asked.

"Because I've finally gotten you—and no one, especially not a moronic git, is going to take you away from me again," Hermione said, again stepping close to Draco.

"I love you," Draco said with a grin.

"I love you, too," Hermione replied immediately, grabbing Draco's robes again as she stretched to kiss him.


	11. Epilogue

**A/N: **I can't tell you how sorry I am that I posted this so late. Still, it's the last one, so I'll just say that it was to build up your excitement :P anyway, so this is the epilogue (obviously), and I tried to make it as close to the original as possible, while making sure my ship is happy. So you're not confused, you should know that this epilogue is later than the one in the book but the kid's ages are different. Plus, the point of view changes randomly in this chapter, with no obvious line breaks. Lastly, I made a few head canons that I hope you like.

And now, with clarifications, I bring you-the last chapter of _Exception_.

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><p>In early September, a bustling family of four was seen hurrying through King's Cross Station. Earlier, the pale-headed son had been pushing the cart, but, in a hurry, the father—a near-identical match from first glance—took control of the trolley. The frizzy-haired mother was then left carrying a toddler as well as holding the hand of the eldest son.<p>

"I told you we should have Apparated here, 'Mione," Draco said over his shoulder.

"Draco, don't say words like that until after we make it through the border," Hermione scolded. "I thought you would have learned that by now."

"Oh, these Muggles will just ignore it, anyway."

"Draco!"

But Hermione's yell was lost on her husband. He had already disappeared through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Hermione sighed, but before she could go after Draco, she felt a tug from her son.

"Mum, I'm scared." Scorpius whimpered. He looked up at Hermione with his brown eyes wide, accenting the smattering of freckles on his pale face.

"It's alright, sweetie, I'll hold your hand through the wall if you want me to," Hermione said. Scorpius bit his lip and nodded.

Hermione made sure to walk slowly to the barrier with Scorpius, and they slid through calmly, as Hermione knew that running into it the Weasley way only made you more scared and attracted Muggle attention. When they were through, Hermione quickly spotted Draco leaning against the trolley, as if he'd been waiting for hours.

When Hermione reached him, Draco stood up, saying, "You do realize we're late, don't you? By now, the Weasleys will all be on the train."

"And which generation are you referencing, exactly?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

Draco acted as if he didn't hear her, which wasn't hard, since Scorpius suddenly called out, "Al! James!" and ran off.

Draco couldn't tell how Scorpius saw his two friends through the mist, because he couldn't see them until he and Hermione had followed their son's blonde head. Just behind the two Potter kids were Harry and Ginny, who Hermione and Draco waved to cheerily.

"Well, you two are late," Ginny said with a small smile. "How did this happen—both of you are sticklers for being on time."

Draco sighed. "'Mione _insisted_ that taking the car would be better, when I _told _her Apparating would work just as well."

"Scorpius needs some Muggle experiences before going off to Hogwarts, Draco, I told you that," Hermione shot back.

"Yes, and how many times has Scorpius ridden in the car?" Draco returned.

Hermione shook her head, though she smiled. "Go help your son load up his things before the train leaves without him."

Draco saluted and did as he was bid. Hermione, meanwhile turned to Ginny, shaking her head.

"Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with that man," she laughed.

"Trust me, Harry was the same with James. Balancing the wizard and Muggle world is so difficult," Ginny said. Turning to the little girl in Hermione's arms, she added, "And speaking of which, how my little Rosie doing? I haven't seen her since she was born."

"Rose is doing beautifully, but," Hermione sighed, "she keeps sending off sparks in her crib and we have to keep putting out the fires."

Ginny laughed. "At least she's not floating off like James did when he was little. We were terrified he'd suddenly drop from the ceiling."

"Luckily, James was an excellent flier," Harry said, coming from a conversation—more likely a scolding—with James. Harry also turned to Rose and patted her head. "She's turning out as beautifully as her name. Rosalinda Marie Malfoy, you are a _beautiful_ baby girl."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said. "And how are the two of you, by the way? Draco and I have been so busy with Sorpius going to school, I never got to hear about your trip to Romania."

"It's a long story," Ginny said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "We should meet up at Hogsmead and get caught up with each other later."

"And make sure you clear your schedule for the day—Harry's very passionate about the whole thing," Ginny said in a low voice. Hermione suppressed a giggle, happy that her friends were back and that her son was about to go to Hogwarts—her favorite place in the world.

Meanwhile, Draco finally discovered his son attempting to lift his trunk onto the train. He couldn't find the right way to pick it up, and had to keep setting it down again. Draco tried to help, but Scorpius shooed him away.

"No, Dad, I'm fine," Scorpius insisted.

"Score, there's not nearly enough time to be a hero," Draco said.

"But I'm going to have to do things all by myself at school—I can't have you helping me all the time," Scorpius protested. Something in his voice was different, and Draco had an idea of what it was.

"Just let me help this one time, and then I promise I'll let you do everything else by yourself," Draco said.

"Fine," Scorpius grumbled. They lifted the trunk onto the train together, and Scorpius tried to walk off, but Draco held him back.

"Score, is something bothering you?" Draco asked. "You're not worried about what house you're going to be in, are you?"

"…maybe a little," Scorpius admitted.

"Son, your mother was a Gryffindor and I was a Slytherin, rival houses with equally good people in them. We aren't worried about what house you're in. Except Hufflepuff—if you make Hufflepuff, then you can forget about writing home anymore."

"Watch it, Malfoy," someone said behind Draco. Draco turned to see Zacharias Smith and his son walking past.

"Sorry about that, Smith," Draco said back. To Scorpius, he whispered, "See what I mean?"

Scorpius laughed, but he still looked worried. After a pause, he asked, "Dad…is Hogwarts scary?"

Draco thought about that for a moment. "It shouldn't be any more, as long as you don't go sneaking around like your mother and I did at your age."

"What happens if I do go sneaking around?"

"Well, see, the teachers—they are absolutely _terrifying_ when you're out of bed. Best to be sure you're caught by Professor Longbottom, or your head's gone forever."

"Dad," Scorpius laughed. "You know what I meant."

"Scorpius, Hogwarts has always been the safest school I've ever known. And with Voldemort completely gone, it's safer than ever."

"What if Voldemort comes back?" Scorpius asked.

Draco sighed and rolled up his sleeve. He moved his arm all around, as if he were inspecting the red scar on his forearm. "Hmm, it doesn't seem like he's been calling for anyone. I think you'll be fine."

Just as Scorpius relaxed, Draco spotted Weasley headed toward them.

"Showing off your battle scars, Draco?" he asked.

"Always a favorite pastime of mine, Ron," Draco responded, with a wink at Scorpius. "Did you get caught up in the traffic, too?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd try driving again," Ron responded. "Did 'Mione make you drive here?"

Draco made a face. "Unfortunately, yes. It 'adds to our son's experiences' as she likes to put it."

"Stubborn, that girl," Ron said.

"Almost as stubborn as I am," Draco agreed. "I was just about to take Scorpius back to her so he can say goodbye, if you want to join us."

"I'd love to," Ron said.

Draco, though he now counted Ron as a friend, had never gotten over that bit of awkwardness that stemmed from their mutual love for Hermione. Ron never brought it up, but Draco felt that Ron still resented him for being the one she loved back. And Ron's lack of any romantic relationship only made it worse. Especially when certain people frequently brought it up…

"Ron, you told me you'd come to this platform only when you had someone to bring with you," Ginny said. "What happened to that?"

"Actually," Ron said, "you're looking at the new Care of Magical Creatures professor."

"_Really?_" Harry said with surprise. "And why didn't you tell us earlier."

"I wanted to surprise everyone ," Ron said with a shrug, bursting with pride. "Hagrid told me he was retiring, so I asked if I could replace him. Even Zabini approved it."

"Zabini?" Draco asked. "You mean _Blaise_ Zabini? He's the new headmaster?"

"Yeah, it was a shock for me, too," Ron said. "But he's really not all that bad. Apparently, he really liked the way Dumbledore ran th school and is trying to do the same."

"So, Ron, what you're saying, is that you've given up on relationships and decided to live like Hagrid?" Ginny joked.

Ron shrugged self-consciously. "Well, I haven't really heard of many relationships that didn't have or cause any problems anyway. Even Malfoy's parents were perfect matches for each other and their parents decided they weren't meant for each other."

Draco remembered the day his parents told him that story. Apparently, his grandfather Abraxis had Lucius arranged to be married to another woman, but Lucius had wanted to marry Narcissa. It nearly caused a disownment, but since Narcissa was a pure-blood, it wasn't too hard to convince Abraxis to allow her into the family. It was a poor comparison to Draco and Hermione's problem, but if it led to his parent's acceptance of the girl, then Draco was willing to let them make the comparison.

"But, mate, love isn't supposed to come easy," Harry said to Ron, breaking Draco's thought process. "You don't really know how much you care about someone until you've got to fight to be with them."

"Harry—thanks but no thanks," Ron laughed. "Go fight another Dark Lord. You're not good at this advice stuff."

"He's right, though," Draco said. "You shouldn't give up on it. I heard from Longbottom there a some professors now that are quite the catch."

"Draco!" Hermione said, but Ron was laughing even harder.

"Now _that's_ the advice I need," Ron said. Before Hermione could continue scolding Draco, the train whistle blew for the last call.

"Well, Scorpius, looks like you better get going," Draco said, patting his son on the back. "Go say good-bye to your mother."

"Bye, mum," Scorpius said, stepping closer so he could give his mother a hug. She squeezed him back and planted a kiss on the top of his head.

"See you soon sweetie, and make sure you write as much as possible," Hermione said.

"I will," Scorpius promised, turning to Draco, who gave his son a hug as well.

When he pulled back, Draco knelt down and said, "And about that house thing—your mother and I have a bet going on whether you'll be in Gryffindor or Slytherin, so make sure you get into Slytherin."

"Draco!" Hermione said for the third time that day. To Scorpius, she said, "Don't listen to your father, we'll love you no matter what house you're in." She lowered her voice and added, "But make sure you ask the Sorting Hat to put you in Gryffindor."

"I heard that, you cheater!" Draco said. "Score, just go before you miss your train—or before your mother makes it so I lose."

"Bye Mum! Bye Dad!" Scorpius said as he ran off towards the train. Hermione and Draco watched their son get on the train with a smile on his face, and in that moment, both were thinking the exact same thoughts. They both were grateful that their son lived in better times and were content, knowing that he wouldn't have to suffer nearly as much as they did throughout their years at Hogwarts.

Both of them had found happiness in each other and in the current peace. Both had found happiness finding exceptions to society's expectations.

In summary, _all was well_.

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><p><strong>AN: **Tada! Exception has been completed. I want to thanks all my reviewers and readers for giving me reasons to update. All my reviews just made me smile-you guys are too nice! And even my readers who never talked to me (you still can, by the way-I won't bite), I still love yoiu all the same, and just seeing that someone read my stories was enough for me.

It's been lovely writing for you all and I hope you'll keep up with me in my future installments!


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